Stormseeker: Unwanted Destiny
by Keolah
Summary: Lexen Chelseer, the interdimensional time traveler, just wants a chance to study in peace. However, he gets dragged into impersonating Harry Potter again and attending Hogwarts. Unfortunately for Lexen, he must learn the hard lesson that some secrets should be kept.
1. New Beginnings

**A/N: This story is a direct continuation of "Stormseeker: Borrowed Destiny" and "Stormseeker: Legacy of the Shapers". However, no prior reading is necessary. Feel free to jump in here if you want.**

**This is based primarily off of the "Harry Potter" series by J. K. Rowling.**

* * *

**Chapter 1: New Beginnings**

I am Lexen Chelseer, the Stormseeker. I was raised on the world of Lezaria, but now it seems my destiny to wander the multiverse.

I'm walking along the rune-lined streets of Torn Elkandu, the center of the universe. I make my way toward the Nexus, the powerful teleportation device that links together every universe.

Six hours from now, everyone in Torn Elkandu is going to die again. I don't have any chance of fighting the dark wizards coming to attack the city as I am now. They are far more powerful than me, and to have any hope of success against them, I have a lot to learn yet. So I intend to be far, far away from here by the time they arrive.

It's not like the attack will kill me. Well, permanently. In fact, it's being killed in this attack that made me discover that I don't stay dead. I usually just wake up again that morning as if it hadn't happened. Under certain circumstances, I wind up being sent back to the day I first died, like what happened today. Instant killing spells or effects are what does that, it seems. It's not the end for me, but it _is_ the end of a lifetime, in effect.

Standing beside the Nexus is my cousin, Keolah Kedaire, the Seeker. Her silver eyes focus upon me as I approach. "Hello, Stormseeker. Where do you want to go today?"

It seems like I spend an awful lot of time visiting worlds trying to blend in, pretending at the very least to be a native to that world, if not somebody else entirely. I've been stumbling through it pretty badly up to this point, however. This has usually resulted in me just acting like myself, no matter who I'm supposed to be, and making a right mess of things. I only ever succeeded at taking Harry Potter's place by the fact that nobody had actually known Harry Potter anyway.

"Hmm," I say thoughtfully. "I'm interested in learning about acting. About pretending to be someone I'm not in a way that isn't blatantly obvious. I don't suppose there's any acting schools or anything like that on Wizarding Earth, is there?"

Keolah blinks at me for a moment over the odd question. "Well, let me see." Her eyes glaze over for a minute. "Huh, well, if that's what you're interested in for whatever reason, there should be plenty of options there. Do you want to narrow the search down a bit?"

"I just wanted to confirm that something is available somewhere there," I say. "I can take it from here, thanks."

"Well, alright then," Keolah says. "May your magic never falter, Stormseeker."

"And may yours find its favor," I reply.

I step into the Nexus, into the circle of runes between the eight obelisks that can send me across the Void to another world. I want to make a couple quick stops at different places before settling into where I'm going to be spending the remainder of this life. First, I focus upon my home in the village of Wishingsdale, on Lezaria.

The mists of the Nexus drop me off in front of the Chelseer manor. I head inside and back to my great-grandmother's bedroom, and look in her wardrobe. There's some mage robes hanging in here, although why she even has them, I'm not sure. She doesn't like wearing robes. Well, she won't mind if I borrow one, and it's not like it looks the least bit feminine, anyway.

I strip off my clothes and pull the green robe over me. It's much too big for me at ten years old. Good. I concentrate on my Time Magic and make my body age itself up to around twenty-five. My skin crawls and my bones ache, and I become larger and older. Much better. I take my child-sized clothes and shove them into a pack. I might wind up needing them again later, but for now, it's better that I appear to be an adult.

I head down to the family vault. I help myself to some bars of gold and a handful of gems, and shove them into a bag. Some funds to get me started at my next life. My family would hardly care about me taking this stuff even if they weren't all likely to be dead by the end of the day. It's awfully heavy, but that problem will be rectified shortly.

I Recall back to the Nexus and think of my next destination. A town in Nodye Coast on the world of Terrestia. I go into the jewelry store and sell one of my gemstones for a bag full of coins of the local currency. From there, it's to the alchemist.

The place has a number of small gourds in different colors laid out on display. They're what the local mages keep their potions in. The ones I'm interested in here are the blue ones, called essence pods. They restore a person's magical energy. I buy as many as I can afford, which turns out to be half a dozen of them.

I never ran across anything like this in Wizarding Earth, and I'm sure Snape would have mentioned it if there were, although their wand-based magic made them less necessary. I'm rubbish with Potions, but I'd like to try to find out how they're made, even if I need to ask Snape to analyze them for me. Failing all else, having some around for emergencies would not be a bad thing.

I step into an alleyway out of sight, and Recall to the Nexus again. I'm ready to go now. I won't be back to Torn Elkandu again in this lifetime. Once the attack is over, the Nexus will destabilize without anyone watching over it, making it unusable. I give one last look at the streets of what should have been my home, and fix in my mind the image of Diagon Alley.

First stop in Wizarding Earth is Gringotts, to get my gold bars changed into galleons. I like the goblins. They don't ask any prying questions, and get their job done in an expedient manner.

Pouch of galleons in hand, I head down the street to the luggage shop and buy a bag with an expansion charm on it. Bags of holding, don't go anywhere without one.

Then, for my next bit of essential equipment, it's over to Ollivander's. I step inside to receive the scrutiny of the old wandmaker.

"What can I do for you today, young man?" Ollivander asks.

"Pine, dragon heartstring, thirteen inches," I say.

"Eh?" Ollivander says.

"Sorry," I say. "I'm Lexen Chelseer, an interdimensional time traveler. Could I pick up my wand, please?"

"I see," Ollivander says. "Very well." He goes to find the wand in question and bring it to me. I already have the money counted out for him by the time he returns.

"One question, though," I say. "Is this wand supposed to be good with curses and not so good with charms?"

"No," Ollivander says. "It's a very flexible wand, but it will adapt to whatever you teach it. The wand learns from you, you see."

I pick up the wand, and it emits a shower of blue sparks at my touch. "I hadn't really used it for a lot of curses up until that point, though," I say. "Actually, I had mainly used it for charms."

"Hmm," Ollivander says. "Perhaps the wand remembers you."

"What do you mean?" I say.

"You are a time traveler, you said," Ollivander says.

"Wait," I say. "Is that even possible? That this wand can actually remember me across time as well?"

"Perhaps," Ollivander says.

"When did you make this wand?"

"1933," Ollivander replies.

I gape at him. "It's been sitting around in here that long?"

"And in all that time, it has refused any other wizard than you," Ollivander says. "I didn't think much of it, however. I thought it was merely being difficult to match. But perhaps it has a connection to you that spans across time itself."

"But I've never been to 1933, or anytime even close," I say.

"Yet, perhaps," Ollivander says.

I frown. I wouldn't even know how to get to that period in time. I wouldn't put it past my powers to be able to take me through time more freely than merely through dying, but I don't know how to do it yet.

"I've had this wand in multiple lifetimes, but you've never mentioned anything unusual about this wand before," I say.

"There's nothing unusual about the wand, so far as I can tell," Ollivander says. "It would hardly be the only wand that refused to choose a wizard for decades."

"Alright, then. Well, thanks for the information," I say. "And the wand. I'd best be off, then."

I leave Ollivander's and head for the public Floo point. From there, my next stop is the Hog's Head. I toss in a pinch of Floo powder and declare my destination, and step through. I tumble out of the fireplace at the Hog's Head and onto my face in a most undignified manner.

Aberforth and Albus Dumbledore are alone in the Hog's Head today, as they seem to be for at least the six hours until Torn Elkandu is closed to me. I never did find out exactly why, but it's convenient for me when starting a new life.

"Pardon me for interrupting, Aberforth, Headmaster," I say. "I am Lexen Chelseer, a time traveler, and I require your assistance." I have the time, but not the patience, to do this the hard way, by showing him memories in a Pensieve. So I'll just settle for the shortcut. "In the Mirror of Erised, you see your sister Ariana."

Dumbledore stares at me for a few moments, as he has many times before, even if he doesn't remember it. "What do you need of me?"

"I'm intending on remaining in this timestream for a while in order to learn some things, but I would like to be unmolested by any Dark Lords while doing so," I say. "So, to that end, I'm going to request a few things in order to prevent that. I'm sure you won't have any objection to that." I smirk.

"Certainly not," Dumbledore says.

"First point," I say. "Whatever stupid plot you have intended for the Philosopher's Stone isn't going to work. Quirrell... well, best keep an eye on him, but preferably _not_ from a position where he can do any harm."

"I see," Dumbledore says, eyes widening a little.

"Second point," I say. "Sirius Black is innocent and Peter Pettigrew is a Death Eater. He's an unregistered Animagus masquerading as Ron Weasley's pet rat, Scabbers. I don't care what happens to Peter, but preventing him from helping the Dark Lord would probably be wise. And getting Sirius freed would be very much appreciated."

"Wasn't Sirius the Potters' Secret-Keeper?" Dumbledore says. "Are you saying that was Peter instead?"

I nod. "They switched at the last minute. Alright, third point. Bartemius Crouch Junior is still alive, still crazy, and still a Death Eater. Please don't let him impersonate Mad-Eye Moody as the Hogwarts Defense professor and demonstrate Unforgivable Curses on students."

Dumbledore blinks at me. "Under normal circumstances, I would question how you would even think of some of these things, never mind whether they could possibly happen."

"Hmm, fourth point would be Tom Riddle's diary, currently hidden in a secret room in Malfoy Manor," I mutter. "I might have to deal with that one myself somehow."

"I don't know that any of the things you've suggested will actually help to defeat Lord Voldemort, rather than merely hinder him a bit," Dumbledore says.

"You aren't still hung up on Harry Potter, are you?" I say. "You know that prophecy is bullshit. Prophecies can't actually predict what will happen in the future, just what _might_ happen in the future. Abyss, the prophecy about me, the Stormseeker, doesn't even say _anything_ beyond enough to clearly identify me. And some nonsense about bearing the hope of a thousand worlds."

Dumbledore says, "You are the Stormseeker? But that means that you could be the hope for this world, as well."

I snort softly. "And last time I was here, you had me impersonate Harry Potter. But I'm not going to do that again."

"You look the part, certainly, although you're a bit old to do that easily now, I think," Dumbledore says.

"That's not an issue," I say. I focus for a moment, and shift my form into that of an eleven year old boy. "I'm a Time Mage. I can change my age at will." It aches for a few minutes after doing it, though. I ignore the robes now dragging along the floor.

Dumbledore's expression practically lights up at that. "I'm certain that you have other things that you need to be doing, but I don't suppose you would consider doing so again, would you?"

Aberforth snorts softly at our conversation and goes off to find something to clean.

I sigh. "I'm not going back to Hogwarts. I _intended_ to find some sort of theatre school somewhere and learn acting."

"Hogwarts could accommodate you in that, you know," Dumbledore says. "I could start up the Theatre Club again."

I rub my temples. I suppose going to Hogwarts again wouldn't be such a terrible thing. I've only attended up through fourth year, after all, so there's still plenty for me to learn. And I got a bit used to being Harry Potter, I suppose.

"Alright, look," I say. "I would really rather not do this again. If I do this for you, if I take the place of your Boy-Who-Lived, you're going to need to agree to do a few more things for me before I even agree to this."

"Such as?" Dumbledore asks.

"The Theatre Club is a good offer," I say. "How about a club or elective for politics and diplomacy as well?"

"That's doable," Dumbledore says.

"And Defense Against the Dark Arts is a complete disaster," I say. "Can we please do something about this?"

"Like what?" Dumbledore asks.

"Get around that stupid curse already," I say. "How about just calling it 'The Dark Arts' and leaving it at that? That can readily include defending against them as well, after all."

"I'm afraid that's not acceptable," Dumbledore says, frowning at me in disappointment.

"Dueling?" I suggest. "Battle Magic?" That's what the mages in the last world I visited called it, after all.

"Battle Magic?" Dumbledore says. "I suppose that wouldn't be too objectionable. But what about defending against dark creatures?"

"Lump it with Care of Magical Creatures into just a general class on Magical Creatures," I say.

Dumbledore nods thoughtfully, but is now looking at me suspiciously. "Mr. Chelseer, are you a proponent of the Dark Arts?"

"I don't see anything inherently evil about them," I say. "However, I acknowledge that they can be very dangerous, that it's often easier for those who _are_ evil to use them, and that they can cause quite a bit of harm. But it is naive to think that they are without their uses for good purposes or that they are the only sort of magic that can be harmful."

"This is true, I suppose," Dumbledore says.

"If you'd like some tangible proof that I'm not really a dark wizard, then how about this?" I say. I pull out my wand and focus my thoughts upon the rainbow after the storm. _All troubles will come to an end. All strife will pass. Life will go on._ "Expecto Patronum!"

A translucent duck made of shimmering silver light emerges from the end of my wand and looks around for trouble. I hold onto it for a minute before letting it vanish.

"Ah, yes, that does help," Dumbledore says. "Thank you for the assurance. It's hardly a guarantee, but there aren't many dark wizards who can cast a light spell of that magnitude."

"If you want me to swear off the Dark Arts entirely so long as I'm being Harry Potter, be on my best behavior as a shining example of goodness and light, I am willing to do so, but that has its price as well," I say.

"I would appreciate it, but what price would you ask for _that_?" Dumbledore wonders.

"I want to personally vet every new staff member," I say. "I've had entirely too many disasters with that." I've had some disasters that were my own damned fault, too, but at least then I could only blame myself when things went wrong.

"What happened?" Dumbledore wonders.

I take a deep breath. "Quirrell is possessed by the Dark Lord, and he spent an entire year attempting to kill me. Lockhart is a fraud who is only good at Obliviation, and he spent an entire year trying to Obliviate me and my friends and take credit for my actions. Lupin, no complaints, he just needs to not be an idiot and remember to take his Wolfsbane Potion. And Moody would have probably been an excellent teacher if it had actually been him and not a Death Eater under Polyjuice. Actually, the Death Eater was a pretty good teacher, too, if it weren't for the fact that he was trying to use me to resurrect the Dark Lord."

"Those were all Defense teachers?" Dumbledore asks. "Were there any problems with any other teachers?"

"Well, there was Hagrid with Care of Magical Creatures," I say. "His enthusiasm was only matched by his inability to figure out what would be suitable lesson plans."

"I see," Dumbledore says. "Any other complaints?"

"Could you possibly make Astronomy an elective, please?" I say. I wonder how desperate he is and how far I can push.

"I think that could be arranged," Dumbledore says. "I'm surprised. I would have expected you to complain of Professor Binns."

"Not really," I say. "I actually found his classes to be quite refreshing. I frequently found myself in want of a nap period, after all."

Dumbledore chuckles softly.

"Oh, another thing," I say. "If anyone suggests for any reason that the Tri-Wizard Tournament be reinstated, flat-out refuse. I don't care what excuse you have to give, just don't do it."

"I don't see why I would, but I will keep that in mind," Dumbledore says.

"Alright," I say. "Alright, I think that covers it. Do you have any other concessions or assurances that you would ask of me?"

"I'll admit that I'm still concerned about your propensity for dark magic," Dumbledore says. "As well as the fact that you are attempting to manipulate me."

"I'm not manipulating you," I say. "I'm making you an offer for fair trade. It's not like I _want_ to be Harry Potter. Manipulation would be threatening to expose your every fault and mistake if you don't comply. That would be blackmail, I believe they call it. I won't do that. No, instead, there's something you want from me, and something I want from you. It's an even trade, and I'd prefer that we're both happy with the arrangement."

"And what if something goes wrong?" Dumbledore asks.

"Then I will take full responsibility for it and deal with it as best as I can," I say. "I have future knowledge, but I'm not omnipotent. I've made mistakes. But I'm not going to blame you for that."

Dumbledore sighs. "I suppose I have no choice."

"There are always choices," I say. "You can refuse my offer and we both walk away and never speak of this again. You can request further concessions or assurances from me. You can make other suggestions of your own."

"Are you trying to argue against this now?" Dumbledore says.

"No," I say. "I just don't trust any choice made on the notion that there is no other option."

Dumbledore looks at me appraisingly for a long moment. Finally, he says, "Very well. I agree to this arrangement."

"Alright, then," I say. "Do what you need to do in order to make me Harry Potter."

"I will need to replicate the scar," Dumbledore says, pulling out his wand.

I nod. "Of course. Go ahead."

There's a flash from the end of Dumbledore's wand. It strikes my forehead with an instant of raw agony. I stagger for a moment, but don't even cry out. It's not like I'm trying to be badass or anything. It's just that it's nothing compared to the pain of many of the times I've died.

"That will suffice, I believe," Dumbledore says. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," I say. "Perhaps I haven't previously expressed that your control over that spell is impressive, that you're able to make such a precise marking without causing any serious damage."

Dumbledore inclines his head toward me. "Come. There are other arrangements that we will need to make."

"Can I change first?" I say.

"Ah, right, that," Dumbledore says. He points his wand at me again, and my robe shrinks to fit. Good enough, I suppose. I can get some self-adjusting clothing later.

"Are you leaving now?" Aberforth says, poking his head up from the bar.

"Yes, Aberforth, we have some things to take care of," Dumbledore says. "Farewell."

"Right, I'll just open up the pub again, then," Aberforth says.

Dumbledore takes me through the Floo to the Ministry of Magic. Interesting. I haven't actually been taken through this process myself before. He's always left me behind and done it himself. Now that I have the opportunity to see what he does, I pay close attention to what he does, on the offhand chance that I should ever want to do it myself without going through him.

Some alteration of records is made to show that "Harry Potter" was raised in the United States by distant relatives who are now dead, leaving Dumbledore as my legal guardian.

From there, we head to Gringotts next. If any of the goblins recognize that I'm the same person who was in here not long ago, even wearing the same clothing, only younger and smaller now, they don't mention it.

After speaking briefly with Dumbledore, a goblin named Ragnok leads us back into a private room. "An issue of confusion over inheritance issues, huh. Stands to reason, what with the Potter line being left without a direct heir."

"You know about that?" I say.

"Of course," Ragnok says. "Not that we'd see fit to tell the Ministry about it, if they even deigned to ask. Inheritance matters are private business."

"The Potters entrusted their vault to me in the event that anything happened to them," Dumbledore says.

"That's not my concern at the moment," Ragnok says. "I'll need a blood sample." The goblin takes my blood and does an analysis on it. "Very well. He can inherit the Potter Vault."

"Ah, you can get it shifted over by my authority?" Dumbledore says.

"I don't care one whit about your _authority_," Ragnok says dismissively. "He can inherit the Potter assets because he's a close blood relative of Lily Potter."

"I'm _what?_" I exclaim.

"Second cousin, or perhaps first cousin once removed," Ragnok says. "James Potter ensured that no relatives on his side of the family would be able to claim the vault, except for Sirius Black. However, he also ensured that any magical relatives of his wife would be able to claim it instead."

"I see," Dumbledore says, frowning a little. "I suppose James wouldn't want the Malfoys or Blacks or anyone else to get their hands on it..."

"Wait a minute," I say. "How can I possibly be Lily's cousin? I'm not even... I don't even..." I'm less than eager to bring up the bit about being from another world at the moment. That's an unnecessary complication.

"You're a pureblood, you mean?" Dumbledore says. "Did your family have any Squibs that were disowned?"

I frown a little. "My great-grandmother Hawthorne had five Squibs after producing an heir... I suppose it's conceivable that one of them could have been Lily's mother." My father and grandfather were from other worlds. Why not the reverse? I'd never considered the possibility of a relative of mine deciding to go to another world to stay. "Was Lily's mother's maiden name Caithnor, by chance?"

"Lily's mother was named Magnolia Caithnor, I believe," Dumbledore replies, nodding.

"Magnolia... Yeah, that _was_ the name of my grandmother's oldest half-sister," I say. "Well, damn. Sorry for the tangent, Ragnok, I was just surprised is all."

"What, did you seriously expect to inherit a vault you had no claim over?" Ragnok says, snorting.

"I expected Dumbledore to know what he's doing," I say.

"Whatever," Ragnok says. "Here's your vault key." He hands it to me. "Now quit wasting my time." He leaves the room.

"I did not expect things to work out like this," Dumbledore says. "But it's just as well. Although James tried to entrust me with his vault, the goblins have not actually allowed me access to it."

So that's why he was willing to let me have the vault before? Because it actually _was_ me that had a legitimate claim over it? "You never mentioned that I'm Lily's cousin before."

"In the... other times you've done this?" Dumbledore says.

"You went alone before, with a sample of my blood," I say. "I can assume that the same thing happened, but you never saw fit to mention it to me. I just have to wonder why."

"I can only speculate on potential motivations for my own actions," Dumbledore says. "Perhaps I didn't believe it necessary, or thought it anything more than a fluke to be related to a Muggleborn. Or maybe the goblins didn't tell me at all when they gave you access to the vault."

"I suppose there's no use fretting over it," I say. "Is there anything else that needs to be done?"

"A visit to _your_ vault, perhaps, and then we will need to discuss living arrangements for the summer for you," Dumbledore says.

"I'll stay at the Leaky Cauldron," I say. "No discussion necessary."


	2. My Crazy Elf

**Chapter 2: My Crazy Elf**

I have a lot to do over the summer. I hardly know where to begin. I've already arranged with Dumbledore what parts he will need to take care of, and what tasks I will do myself. Obtaining the diary and capturing Peter Pettigrew are two of my main objectives for the summer.

I even got Dumbledore to give me the invisibility cloak early. Honestly, giving me heirlooms as Christmas presents? It's funny how knowing that I _am_ actually the rightful heir makes me feel somehow better about this all. I think I'll just give Dumbledore the benefit of the doubt and assume that the goblins simply didn't tell him about the connection before.

Before I do anything, though, I need to do some more shopping, if I'm going to be staying here and being Harry Potter again. I put in an order for a new wardrobe with size-adjusting enchantments on it. No need to bother to pay extra for it to be done quickly. There's plenty of time.

I'm also going to need an owl to deliver my mail for me. I head over to Eeylops Owl Emporium to pick up a familiar large grey owl.

"Your name is Solomon," I tell him.

My new old owl hoots in approval.

"I've got a task for you already, in fact," I say. "I want you to deliver a message to the Parkinson family. They've been very bad people and have enslaved a free-born elf against his will, but do try not to peck them too hard when you deliver it."

I write out a letter addressed to the Parkinson family, politely introducing myself and expressing an interest in purchasing a house-elf. I send it off with Solomon.

I've done quite a bit today, and I think I'll settle in for some sleep before doing anything else. I don't think I'm likely to get killed at the moment here, but I'd really rather not have to repeat the day.

I receive a reply the next morning, inviting me over for the next Sunday, July 7th. I haven't actually been to the Parkinsons' place before. I'm going to free my old friend, Rispy, by any means necessary. The thought of an intelligent creature being held in slavery against their will makes my blood boil.

On Saturday, I make a trip to Hogwarts, straight to the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore has left his office open to me at all times again. However, at the moment, Dumbledore isn't even in. Just as well, I suppose. This might kill me, and I don't care to have to explain what I'm doing multiple times.

I head out and down to the girls' restroom on the first floor. I hear gurgling from a nearby toilet, and say absently, "Hello, Myrtle."

The ghost girl doesn't reply. I suppose she must be too busy thinking about death to be paying much attention at the moment. No matter. I was just trying to be friendly.

I turn my attention to the faucet on the middle sink. I'm not actually a Parselmouth. I only even know one word in Parseltongue, and that's the word to open the way into the Chamber of Secrets. I can only assume that it might mean "open" or something, but for all I know, it means "swordfish".

It's been a long time since I've been here and actually used this word to get inside, too. I wind up having to try it several times before the wall opens up and reveals the pipe spiraling down into the Chamber. I slide down inside.

"_Scourgify_," I mutter, cleaning some of the muck off of myself. "_Lumos_." I head down the tunnel to the great door marking the entrance to the Chamber proper. It takes me a few less tries to get this one to open.

I head into Salazar Slytherin's private library, off the side from the large chamber. At least I'm not really in any danger of being killed by the basilisk. It's still asleep inside of Slytherin's statue, after all. And if it _did_ come out and kill me, I'll just bring a rooster along next time. No big deal. Provided I avoid looking it in the eye. That'll send me back to the start.

There's a lot of books in here, most of them written in Latin, some in Middle English, others in languages that I don't even recognize. My Latin is far from perfect, but I can manage it. One in particular that I'm interested in studying: _Codex Veritatum_, the Book of Truths. Considering nigh-legendary in wizarding culture, in my last life, it was stolen before I knew enough Latin to hope to puzzle through it. I never did recover it to have a chance to study it. I'm eager for the opportunity to do so now.

I grab a number of other books as well and shove them into my bag of holding. Many of them are ones that I've already read through extensively. I'm not going to clean out this library today. I can always come back down here, after all. But these books will make a good bargaining point when dealing with those who might be difficult to sway with mere promises of money.

One book I grab doesn't look like it's written in any sort of script I'm familiar with. I open it up curiously to take a look. As I do so, three black snakes slither out from nowhere and coil up my arms. They don't do anything else for a few seconds, and then they strike. They sink their fangs into me and inject burning venom into my veins. My head spins, and I collapse to the ground. It's only seconds before the darkness takes me.

* * *

I wake in my room at the Leaky Cauldron. Well, that was unpleasant, if not entirely unexpected. What _was_ that book, anyway? Written Parseltongue or something? How would snakes have a written language? They don't even have hands! Well, maybe it was actually the language of something snake-like, like the naga. Or just some obscure language that happened to be protected by Parseltongue in some way.

That did, however, remind me of a very important safety tip that I'd forgotten about. I should buy a few bezoars and carry them with me in my bag of holding. It probably wouldn't have saved me in that last case, but I've never regretted having them available for emergencies.

I get up and get dressed again, then it's back to the Floo. To the Hogwarts Headmaster's office, down to the girls' restroom, and into the Chamber of Secrets. I'm still not getting the password on the first try, but the second or third isn't bad.

I collect the books I'd wanted, and avoid touching the one that killed me. I think that's quite enough for today, so I don't press my luck any further. I head back out again. It's always a nuisance getting _out_ of the Chamber of Secrets. I don't know the Parseltongue word to call for the stairs, so I wind up having to climb up the hard way. This time, I use an Energy Stream Curse to propel me up the pipe. So it's dark magic, but nobody's looking and it's the quickest way I know of to get out of here.

When I get back to the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore has returned. "Ah, Harry," he says deliberately. "What can I do for you today?"

"It's alright," I say. "I was just using your Floo to sneak into the castle so that I could get down to the Chamber of Secrets to swipe some reading material from Salazar Slytherin's private library."

I pull out the _Codex Veritatum_ to show him. I have no reason to lie to him, after all. Maybe in this life, there won't be so much broken trust and paranoia between us.

"The Book of Truths?" Dumbledore says, eyes widening as he looks at it, then to me. "You did not mention that you are a Parselmouth."

"I'm not," I say. "The only word I know is the one to open the Chamber of Secrets. And that took quite a bit of practice to get right."

"Ah, I see," Dumbledore says. "You did not have any difficulty with Slytherin's monster that was supposed to be in the Chamber of Secrets?"

"A basilisk," I say. "It's hibernating. I don't know the Parseltongue phrase to awaken it anyway. If I did, I'd go down there with a rooster and be rid of it."

"Strange," Dumbledore says. "I would have expected the creature to be _guarding_ the Chamber."

"Apparently not," I say.

"I would also imagine that there is probably a lot of material on dark magic in Slytherin's library," Dumbledore says, looking at me a little suspiciously.

"There is," I say. "And some books that are liable to kill you if the wrong person tries to read them. But not all of them." I tap the cover of the _Codex Veritatum_. "This one, I've been dying for a chance to read."

"I would imagine," Dumbledore says. "There are many who would kill for a chance to read that book, if it's genuine."

"And you don't need to worry about me going back on our agreement," I say. "I'll be on my best behavior, and put on the cleanest face I can. As you see, I'm not hiding anything from you, either."

"Of course," Dumbledore says, although I can tell he still doesn't really trust me anyway. "What do you think about having Remus Lupin as the new Battle Magic teacher?"

"He's a good teacher," I say. "As I said, he just needs to remember to take his potions. And if he can't do that, have Snape go and force feed them to him." I smirk.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary," Dumbledore says, eyes twinkling.

Maybe thinking that he's being suspicious and distrustful of me is misplaced. For one thing, he hasn't once tried Legilimency against me. He wouldn't be able to get through my Occlumency barriers without my noticing, but he hasn't even _tried_. All things considered, I think he's actually being amazingly trustful and not paranoid at all.

* * *

"Ah, Harry Potter," Mr. Parkinson says. "It's an honor to have you in our home." He gives me a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"I hope that our meeting will be beneficial," I say with forced politeness.

"I must say, I'm surprised to see you came alone," Mr. Parkinson says. "Where are your guardians?"

"I was raised in the United States by some of my mother's cousins," I reply. "But they died recently. I'm technically the ward of Professor Dumbledore now."

"I see," Mr. Parkinson says. "And you're interested in purchasing a house-elf?"

"It has recently come to my attention that I have inherited some property," I say.

"Of course, of course," Mr. Parkinson says. "I have several fine house-elves available. Although, given your age, perhaps we could make an arrangement for a fresh, young servant to be raised and trained for you for when you leave school."

I shake my head. "No, I would prefer to obtain one now, thank you."

"As you wish," Mr. Parkinson says. "I have three males available at the moment. I'm afraid my females are currently not for sale."

He brings out the three males for me to inspect. Rispy is not among them, unsurprisingly. I say, "No, not these. I have heard that you have another elf. A _special_ one. Where is he?"

Mr. Parkinson suddenly looks rather nervous. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, there's no need to hide it with me," I say. "I don't plan on going to snitch to the goblins about it, after all. That would be simply awful for you, and I would never do that to you."

Mr. Parkinson looks at me suspiciously. "What do you want, Potter?"

"I want that elf," I say darkly, narrowing my eyes at him. "By any means necessary. I suggest going along with means that are beneficial toward you."

"Are you threatening me, Potter?" Mr. Parkinson says.

"No," I say. "I'm making you an offer. You have something I want. Let us negotiate on what I will give you in exchange."

Mr. Parkinson looks at me for a long moment, and then chuckles softly. "You are quite the surprising child, Mr. Potter. Bound for Slytherin, no doubt. Very well. Let us negotiate, then."

"So, what interests you, Mr. Parkinson?" I ask. "Gold? Prestige? Rare artifacts? Lost arcane knowledge?"

"What sort of artifacts and knowledge?" Mr. Parkinson asks.

"How would you like some books that belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself?" I say.

Mr. Parkinson's eyes widen. "Where did you get these?"

"That's a secret," I say, grinning.

"If you speak truly, then show me what you are offering so that I can inspect them," Mr. Parkinson says. "If I am satisfied, I will transfer ownership of Rispy to you."

"Very well," I say. I pull three books out of my bag of holding and laying them on a nearby table. Not the Book of Truths. That one is _mine_. But the ones I've already read, they can be used as bargaining chips. No doubt any _one_ of these is worth more than a single mere elf, no matter how "special", but I don't care. It's not like I want them myself, and I'd like to buy Mr. Parkinson's _happiness_ as well as possession of Rispy.

Mr. Parkinson picks up one of them and looks at it intently. He opens it up and carefully flips through some of the pages. These books are very clearly old, but magically preserved.

"These belonged to Salazar Slytherin?" Mr. Parkinson says. "They certainly seem old..."

"Indeed," I say.

"But you won't tell me where you got them from," Mr. Parkinson says.

"How about we look at it this way," I say. "The first book is to pay for the elf. The second is for not asking any questions about where I got them from. And the third is to pay for your silence on where _you_ got these from and what happened to the elf."

Mr. Parkinson thinks on this for a few moments, before nodding. "If these are even half as valuable as they look, then I suppose I have no cause to complain of those terms. I accept your bargain. Rispy!"

Rispy appears before us, looking positively miserable in the dirty pillowcase he's wearing, tied with a bit of rope as a belt. "What do you want, Master?" he says bitterly.

"Rispy," Mr. Parkinson says. "You now belong to Mr. Harry Potter here. You will follow his orders instead of mine."

Rispy looks over at me with an expression of distaste. "I see."

"I hereby cancel any orders that any other wizards have given you," I say.

Rispy visibly relaxes, and says, "Well, in that case." He turns to Mr. Parkinson and says. "You son of a bitch!" Rispy waves a hand and hurls Mr. Parkinson against a wall.

"Gah!" Mr. Parkinson exclaims. "Potter! Tell him to leave me alone!"

I smirk. "He's not very happy with you, is he."

"I'm going to kill you, wizard scum!" Rispy cries, grabbing a poker from beside the fireplace and brandishing it like a spear.

"Potter!" Mr. Parkinson screams.

"Stand down, Rispy," I say. "As amusing as this is, I'm afraid I can't allow you to kill anyone today."

Rispy glares at me, but stops and lowers his makeshift weapon. "I didn't think you'd actually let me anyway," he mutters dejectedly.

"You shouldn't have canceled his directives," Mr. Parkinson says, standing up again and straightening his robes with as much dignity as he can muster. "He'll be a danger to you if you aren't careful."

"I know what I'm doing, Mr. Parkinson," I say. "Farewell. Come, Rispy." I step over to the fireplace and toss in a bit of Floo powder. "The Leaky Cauldron!"

I step into the Floo, and tumble out of the fireplace at the far end. Rispy, with reluctant obedience, teleports after me. I gesture at him to follow as I go up to my room. Once we're inside, I pull out my wand and cast privacy and locking spells, to make sure nobody disturbs us.

"What, an inn, and not an oversized mansion?" Rispy says, peering about. Although Mr. Parkinson treated me as a cunning, precocious child, Rispy never looked at anyone any differently, whatever age they were.

I shrug. "I've inherited some properties, but I haven't gotten around to claiming them yet. I wanted to make sure to get you out of that situation first."

Rispy snorts softly. "I'm not going to believe that a wizard actually cared about my welfare. You're going to have to do a lot of convincing if you want me to believe that you aren't just like the rest of them, wanting an elf slave to order around and force to breed new slaves for you."

"Believe me when I say that if I could have gotten you out of there sooner, or prevented it from happening in the first place, I would have," I say.

"Why would you care about the misfortunes of a 'mere' elf?" Rispy demands.

"I'm going to tell you a secret," I say. "I am a time traveler. In the future of another timeline, another lifetime, you were my friend. We were working toward freedom for your people. It wasn't going quickly, but we were making progress, and without needing to resort to bloodshed, either."

"I find that more than a little hard to believe, especially considering that you've just enslaved me yourself, and refused to let me kill the one who stole my freedom from me," Rispy says.

"Personally, I'm impressed at your restraint," I say. "You haven't tried to kill me yet. Last time, our first meeting was punctuated by you stabbing me in the eye."

Rispy smirks. "I'm willing to hear you out, if only because the first thing you did was to free me from most of the chains Parkinson placed on me."

"And I'm perfectly willing to free you from the rest of them, too," I say, pulling a pair of socks out of my bag of holding and laying them on the table beside me. "I'm making you an offer. On the right hand, you can take the socks and be free, go home, and we go our separate ways. On the left... you remain bound to me, but also protected by me. No other wizard will be able to bind you again. I will not abuse that bond, and will still allow you to do as you wish."

Rispy frowns at me, looking toward the socks. "I still don't trust you or your motivations. Is this some sort of trick? What do you want, Potter?"

"_Freedom for all beings_," I say firmly.

"If you're really, honestly, offering me a chance at reclaiming my freedom, why would I ever wish to remain bound to you?" Rispy wonders.

"Fair trade," I say. "In exchange for your assistance, I'll offer you protection and privilege. No one else will be able to bind you against your will. You will be able to go places that you would not be able to. And if there's anything you wish, within reason, ask me and I will provide it if I can. Provided it doesn't involve murdering anyone." I smirk.

"I was just going to ask if you would kill Parkinson, then," Rispy says, smirking back.

"Yeah, like I said, I _know_ you," I say, chuckling. "You can be quite bloodthirsty at times. I don't blame you, really. But I can't go around murdering people."

Rispy sighs and slumps his shoulders. "Fine, I suppose I can understand that. But it just wouldn't be right if he receives no justice for what he did to me."

"Someone once told me that death isn't justice," I say. "I'm not sure that I agree with that, personally. Some people just deserve to die, or that it's the most expedient way to keep them from hurting you or anyone else. However, under the circumstances, it would take a fair bit to make Parkinson dead and get away with it. I am, however, willing to make the preparations necessary if that's what you really want."

Rispy thinks about it for a few moments. "I don't know if I can really trust you until he's dead."

"Then take the socks and go," I say. "Otherwise, you're going to have to trust me, and I'm going to have to trust you."

"Why do you have to trust _me_?" Rispy says. "You're the one who has complete control over me."

"Alright, here's a direct order for you, then," I say. "Construe any orders from me as suggestions or requests. You never _need_ to follow them."

Rispy stares at me. "That kind of hurts my head."

"Sorry," I say, snickering softly. "At least I didn't order you to ignore all orders?"

"Have I mentioned yet that you're insane?" Rispy asks.

"Not in this lifetime," I say wryly, laughing softly. "Okay, I suppose that should have been, construe all orders _except this one_ as suggestions or requests."

"Better," Rispy says, smirking. "Alright, you know what. I might wind up regreting this, but... I'll go along with this, then. I'll stay with you, for now. But I want that offer to remain open if I ever want out."

"Of course," I say. "I won't hold you one minute longer than you wish. Although, I'd like you to think on whether you really want Mr. Parkinson dead. If, by tomorrow, you still want that, then I will set into motion events to make sure that he dies discreetly, without it being traced back to me."

"I don't think I'm going to stop wanting revenge," Rispy says. "But very well."

I grin darkly. "Ah, but killing someone is rarely the best revenge."

"You'd better not be about to give me some bullshit about living well," Rispy says.

"Oh, no, certainly not," I say. "But if it's _revenge_ you want, there are far more creative ways to go about it. Ways that will leave him alive to regret how things have come to that point."

"I never thought of it that way," Rispy says.

"If you like, I can come up with something suitable," I say. "Always keep your eyes open for opportunities. The best plans can come crashing down due to something unexpected happening... or a sudden victory can be achieved by taking advantage of a rapidly changing situation."

Rispy nods. "Very well. So what are you going to do for now? What sorts of things exactly did you want my assistance with?"

"For starters, I mean to take over one of the old Potter properties to use as a headquarters of sorts," I say. "I don't know if I want to use the one in Godric's Hollow, but probably not. Anyway, when I decide on a place, it's going to be well-protected, and a safe haven for me and any friends that want to stay there for any reason."

"And what about me?" Rispy asks.

"_You_ will get your own bedroom, not a filthy cupboard or something," I say. "And money to buy whatever you need. Buy your own clothes, perhaps?"

"That would be nice," Rispy says. "I'm not going to do all the cooking and cleaning for a mansion, though. That would just be demeaning. But I'd be willing to help defend the place or look after animals."

"There's another elf who had his eye on freedom that I wanted to take on," I say. "One by the name of Dobby, who currently belongs to the Malfoys. They mistreat him pretty badly, to the point where he even tried defying their orders as much as possible."

Rispy nods. "I met Dobby. He was pretty miserable. I'd be glad to see him get into a better situation."

"Yeah," I say. "Alright, shall we get something to eat? Then we can go down the list of properties the goblins gave me and see about picking one to use as our headquarters."

"_Our_ headquarters?" Rispy repeats, then grins. "You know, I kind of like the sound of that."

* * *

The mansion before me is three stories tall, built of austere stone, with two wings enclosing a courtyard containing a dry fountain. There are gardens in the back, and an unoccupied pasture that might have once been used for horses. It's practically a castle, a fortress in its own right. Rispy doesn't look impressed.

"I didn't think I would see Caer Danas again," Dumbledore says. "James tried to sell it off in order to fund the war against Voldemort."

"According to the information the goblins gave me," I say, "the sale was invalid in the first place. His father didn't let him inherit the castle for fear that he would do just that. I probably wouldn't have even known it existed if I hadn't gone specifically looking for owned land."

"What of the recipient of the sale?" Dumbledore asks.

"Dead with no heirs even before James was killed," I say. "So it's a moot point anyway."

"I'll check to make sure the wards are still intact," Dumbledore says. "The spells they put over wizarding properties are intended to last for quite a long time, so they should be fine with some updating. Are there any additions you'd like to make?"

"Would having the Fidelius Charm on it preclude it from being on the Floo network?" I ask.

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore says. "You don't know how to Apparate, I take it?"

"No, I don't," I say. "I really need to learn that sometime. I've been getting by with Floo, portkeys, and Side-Along Apparation. But it's not very convenient sometimes. I'm rubbish on a broom, too."

"I could set up portkeys for when you need to get somewhere, I suppose," Dumbledore says. "There aren't any other houses nearby that could discreetly be used as a Floo point."

"And I really wouldn't mind some other trusted adult wizards being around here, either," I say. "They could always Apparate me places if needed, too."

"I can cast the Fidelius Charm for you if you want," Dumbledore says. "What should the secret be, and who do you want as the Secret-Keeper? Yourself?"

"Rispy, would you be willing to do it?" I ask.

Rispy's eyes widen. "Me? You would trust me that much?"

"Of course," I say, smiling at him.

"Then I would be honored," Rispy says.

I nod, and tell Dumbledore, "As for the secret. The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is at Caer Danas."

"The Order of... Really?" Dumbledore says, eyes twinkling.

"I didn't want this, but I'm not one to do things in half measures," I say, grinning. "I'll take up your fight. I'll stop the Dark Lord."


	3. Sneaking in the Dark

**Chapter 3: Sneaking in the Dark**

There's a lot to be done to get Caer Danas fixed up. Rispy doesn't mind helping out with getting it cleaned up and livable, especially since I do a lot of the work myself, but he makes it clear that he's not going to do the housekeeping.

In an attempt to get back into the hang of using complex wand-based magic again, I set up a contingency spell over the gazebo to ring a set of chimes in the main hall when someone appears there. I don't get it quite right, though. It does make the chimes ring, but so long as someone is standing in the gazebo, they don't _stop_ ringing.

Unfortunately, I don't realize that until someone shows up there a few days later. It must be Dumbledore, since he's the only other one who knows the secret, but he remains in the gazebo instead of just coming in. He probably has someone with him who doesn't know the secret.

I groan a little and say to Rispy, "Let's go see who it is. The doxies can wait."

We head out back. Standing in the gazebo and making the bells ring incessantly are Dumbledore and Remus Lupin. I smile broadly when I see Moony, and it's all I can do to resist the urge to run up and hug him.

"Good day, Harry," Dumbledore says. "I'd like to introduce Remus Lupin. He was a friend of your parents, and will be your Battle Magic teacher this year."

"Rispy, could you give Remus the secret so the bells will stop ringing?" I say, grinning.

"The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is at Caer Danas," Rispy says to Remus.

"Bells?" Remus says in confusion, looking over at the castle that has just appeared for him.

"Well, I put up a contingency spell to ring a set of wind chimes in the main hall when someone shows up in the gazebo," I say. "But now it's ringing anytime someone is standing inside the gazebo, continuously. Not really a big deal, I suppose."

"Ah, my apologies," Dumbledore says, stepping out of the gazebo. "I didn't realize."

Remus looks at me in surprise. "A contingency spell? You haven't even started school yet!"

I chuckle softly. "Come inside. We have much to speak of."

"I didn't tell him," Dumbledore says as we head for the back door. "I'll leave that as your secret to share with whom you will."

"Thank you," I say.

"What secret?" Remus wonders.

We step inside. This is a home I can feel safe in. Well, aside from the doxies, anyway. Anyone that can be here is someone that I can trust. Here, of all places, I can speak completely freely without worry of eavesdroppers or traitors.

"I'm a time traveler," I say. "Chronologically, I'm about twenty-two, actually. Although I've only actually seen up through the first half of 1995, due to various circumstances. Ah, it's a long story." And not one I'm eager to tell, either.

"A time traveler?" Remus says. "I suppose that would explain much. Why did you decide to come back in time? Did the war against Voldemort go badly and everyone you cared about died?"

I laugh aloud at that. "No, no, nothing like that. I don't get to choose when I go back, actually. If someone hits me with a Killing Curse, suddenly I'm back in 1991 again. But it's only certain things that will send me all the way back. Most of the time, I just go back to the last time I woke up. Even if it's just from taking a nap or even being knocked unconscious."

"You go back in time when you die?" Remus says, raising an eyebrow. "I've never heard of anyone with an ability like that before."

"Neither have I," I say. "Admittedly, the breadth of my knowledge isn't nearly as wide as it could be. Watch the doxies," I warn Remus as he goes to sit down on the couch. "We've been working on getting the place cleaned up. It's been abandoned for over a decade. But it's been slow going with just the two of us."

"I could stay and help with that, if you like," Remus says.

"Hell, you can move in if you want!" I say. "What are your living arrangements like? We've got plenty of room here."

"I wouldn't want to impose..." Remus begins.

"Nonsense," I say. "Come, live with us."

"I'm not sure if that would be a good idea," Remus says, looking uneasily to Dumbledore.

"Oh, don't worry," I say. "I know all about your 'furry little problem'. Just don't forget to drink your potions or at least keep the door locked or something. I'm really not concerned."

"I should be going," Dumbledore says. "I have things to take care of. Farewell." He turns to go.

"I suppose if you really want me here, I won't complain," Remus says. "It looks like you've got your work cut out for you here, as well." We get back to cleaning things up.

"I'm going to need to go to Diagon Alley on the thirtieth and thirty-first," I say. "Will that be doable?"

"That's fine. The full moon is on the twenty-sixth this month," Remus says. "Why those dates in particular?"

"That's when some people that I need to 'coincidentally' meet will be out shopping for school supplies," I say. Come to think, Hermione is going to show up sometime in July, but I don't remember when. And the Weasleys are coming in August, but I don't remember which day for them either. That's not good. Hermione I can miss, but I _need_ to catch the Weasleys.

"Who?" Remus asks.

"Neville Longbottom on the thirtieth, Draco Malfoy on the thirty-first," I reply.

"Why do you want to meet with Draco Malfoy?" Remus wonders.

"I need to steal something from his house," I say. "A dark artifact that's going to cause some serious problems if it's not destroyed."

"Ah, I see," Remus says.

"I also need to meet the Weasleys," I say. "I just don't remember which day they'll be going to Diagon Alley. I think it was about a week or two into August. Gah. That's really important, too. I've _got_ to catch that rat."

"What rat?" Remus says, looking up at me in surprise.

"Peter was the Potters' Secret-Keeper," I say. "He faked his own death and has been hiding as the Weasley family's pet rat."

Remus stares at me for several moments as the implications of what I've said work their way through his head. "You mean, Sirius is innocent?"

I nod. "Hopefully, capturing the damned rat will lead to getting him out of Azkaban. And if the Ministry decides to sit on their hands and pooh-pooh about it, I'll go _break him out myself!_"

"But nobody's ever escaped from Azkaban," Remus says.

"He got out on his own once," I say. "And I've broken him out a few times myself. It's not like I haven't done this before. It'll just likely cause a big stink, and he'd still be hunted for escaping. I'll try the legal way first and leave forcing the matter for if that doesn't work."

"You really have this all planned out, don't you," Remus says.

"You have no idea how much time I have spent thinking about what I might do the next time I came back here," I say. "I wasn't even planning to go to Hogwarts again this time, but Dumbledore talked me into it. Although I refused to do it unless he made some changes to the curriculum."

"Hence, Battle Magic," Remus says.

I nod. "I find it astonishing that he hasn't actually made any serious attempt to circumvent that curse before."

"It's going to be difficult not to think of you as eleven-year-old Harry," Remus says. "You're actually an adult, after all."

I shrug. "The only thing that'll really annoy me is if people don't listen to me, or try to protect me 'for my own good' in some stupid manner. I _can't_ die, so I'm really less than concerned about that."

"Very well," Remus says. "I feel like I should warn you to be careful, but..."

I chuckle. "Get used to it."

* * *

Toward the end of July, Solomon comes in and drops me an envelope. With the way the wards are set up, only Solomon can come in, so messages are delivered to an outside location for Solomon to pick up. It's my Hogwarts letter, listing supplies that I'll need this year. I'm quite pleased to notice that no Astronomy supplies are listed. No more needless midnight classes for something I don't even care about!

I head to Diagon Alley with Remus on the thirtieth of the month. I want to make a good first impression on Neville in this life. I spot his grandmother before I notice Neville himself, although she's a bit hard to miss considering her interesting fashion sense. A stuffed vulture on her hat? Really?

"There he is," I murmur to Remus. "Let's go meet them."

I head over to intercept the Longbottoms. It's strange to see the Neville I remember looking so small and scared again. He's not the same Neville anymore. But I know that the potential is there.

"Good day, Augusta," Remus says.

"Ah, Remus!" Augusta Longbottom says. "It has been a while. Who is this you've got with you today? Is that... Harry Potter?"

"Yes, ma'am," I reply, smiling at her. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"This here is my grandson, Neville," Augusta says. "It's his birthday today. Yours is tomorrow, if I remember right?"

"That's right," I say, and grin at Neville. "I should get you a present!"

"Thanks, but that's really not-" Neville says.

"Come on!" I say, grabbing his hand to drag him off.

"Boys!" Augusta calls. "Don't run out of sight, now!"

"I'll keep an eye on them," Remus offers valiantly, following along after us.

I giggle as I drag Neville around the alley enough to make sure that we've really lost Augusta. We very nearly lose Remus, too, but he's better at keeping up.

"Where are we going?" Neville wonders.

I stop near Ollivander's and look around. It's just us, with Remus trotting in. No vulture hat in sight. "I think we lost her."

"I think she's going to go spare," Neville says.

"That's okay," I say. "I'll take full responsibility. Come on." I head into Ollivander's wand shop.

Neville follows along after me uneasily. "But my gran said I was supposed to use my father's wand..."

"Ah, another young customer?" Ollivander says. "You never get the same results with a wand that hasn't chosen you, you know."

"You'll be a great wizard someday, Neville," I say. "But you need a wand of your own."

"My gran is _definitely_ going to go spare about this," Neville says.

"I'm not scared of your gran," I say.

"You're braver than I am, then," Neville says, wide-eyed.

"Nonsense," I say. "You're one of the bravest people I've ever met."

"But you just met me," Neville protests.

I chuckle. "Trust me, okay?"

"Well, alright," Neville says.

I don't remember what Neville's wand was, beyond that I think it was unicorn hair, so I step back and let Ollivander do his thing. Sure enough, after a while, Neville gets matched with a wand of cherry and unicorn hair, thirteen inches. I pay for the wand and say, "Happy birthday."

When we step outside, Neville says, "Thanks, Harry. Maybe it would be best if I hide this till I get to school."

There's no way he'll be able to hide it forever, but perhaps he'll manage to stop being so afraid of his grandmother after some time at Hogwarts.

"Let's get you another 'present' that you can show your grandmother, then," I say, heading off again. I spot a shop selling plants, and head over. "Take your pick."

"You don't have to-" Neville begins.

"I don't have to do _anything_," I say. "But I _want_ to."

"I suppose," Neville says.

Neville picks out a small plant with purple flowers, and I pay for that as well. We then head over to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. The three of us are munching on ice cream cones at an outside table when Augusta finally catches up to us.

"There you are!" Augusta says. "Running off like that! I trust you've kept them out of trouble, Remus?"

"They've been perfect saints, Augusta," Remus assures her.

"Would you like some ice cream, Mrs. Longbottom?" I ask.

"No, thank you," Augusta says firmly but politely.

* * *

The next day, I head back to Diagon Alley with Remus. We hang around a bit, collecting some miscellaneous supplies while I'm at it, until I spot Draco heading into Madam Malkin's clothing shop. I turn and go over there and head inside.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," Madam Malkin says as I come in. "Your order is ready for you and waiting in the back. I'll have someone bring it out for you in a minute, if you don't mind waiting."

"Alright, I'm not in any rush," I say. I wander over toward Draco nonchalantly.

"Did she say Potter?" Draco says. "I'm Draco Malfoy."

"That's right," I say. "I'm Harry Potter. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"You had your clothes already ordered?" Draco asks.

"I wanted some extra work and enchantments done on them," I say.

"Oh," Draco says. "You're starting at Hogwarts this year, too? Huh, my father said you'd be about my age."

I nod. "It's strange being back in England again. I don't even really remember when I was here as a baby."

"You were raised in the States, I'd bet by your accent," Draco says. Yeah, the accent that I've been intentionally exaggerating to cement the idea that I've just come to Britain.

"Yeah," I reply. "This place is awfully different. I've never seen so many wizards in one place before. But it's great. You excited about going to Hogwarts?"

"I am," Draco says. "I'll probably be in Slytherin, too, since my whole family has been in Slytherin. Your parents were in Gryffindor, weren't they? So I guess you'll probably be in Gryffindor, too."

"Nonsense," I say. "You aren't put into a house just because your family was. Besides, I had a grandmother who was in Slytherin. Your Aunt Dorea?"

"Oh!" Draco says. "Right, of course. Now that you mention it, I think I had another aunt who was a Hufflepuff, too, actually. I don't know if I'd want to be in Hufflepuff, though. That would be just embarrassing."

"Nothing wrong with it," I say. "It'd mean that you're a loyal and determined person. If you want to look at Hufflepuff as a dumping ground for Muggleborns who don't belong anywhere else, then look at Slytherin as a dumping ground for purebloods who don't belong anywhere else. You can't seriously tell me that the likes of Crabbe and Goyle would get put there because of their cunning?"

"You... have a point," Draco admits. "You seem to know an awful lot, considering you just arrived in the country."

Yeah, I was probably pushing that a bit much. "My family told me stories, and I read a lot of books."

"Here's your order, Mr. Potter," says a witch, coming out with a pile of clothes.

"Ah, thank you," I say. I take them and shove them into my bag of holding.

"Nice bag," Draco says.

"It's very useful," I say.

"So where _do_ you think you'll end up?" Draco wonders. "I suppose nobody really knows until they get there, but you've got to have _some_ idea."

I shrug. "Might be Gryffindor. Might be Slytherin. It could be Ravenclaw. It might even be Hufflepuff. I won't be disappointed no matter where I wind up. They all have their good points."

"There you go, Mr. Malfoy, all done for you," Madam Malkin says, shooing him along.

I head out of the shop along with Draco. Remus is waiting for me outside, absently leaning against a wall and watching passersby.

"You get your clothes, Harry?" Remus says. I nod to him. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Draco Malfoy," I say. "Draco, let me introduce Remus Lupin. He's going to be our Battle Magic teacher this year."

"Battle Magic?" Draco says.

"For various reasons, Defense Against the Dark Arts has been removed and replaced with Battle Magic," Remus says.

"Oh!" Draco says. "That sounds like fun."

"And hopefully, nothing horrible will happen to him by the end of the year," I add.

"So where are your parents, Draco?" Remus asks.

"My father's next door, buying my books," Draco replies. "And my mother's down the street."

I need to play this carefully. I won't get another chance to make a first impression, and this seems a bit much to commit suicide over to retry. I _must_ get that diary.

Lucius Malfoy comes out of the shop next door with a pile of books in hand. He looks over to us appraisingly, his eyes coming to rest on the scar on my forehead. "Harry Potter?"

"Hello," I say brightly. "Are you Mr. Malfoy?"

"I am Lucius Malfoy," the blond wizard says with a neutral expression.

"It's good to meet you," I say, bowing to him.

"Likewise," Lucius says with a forced smile.

"Do you mind if I tag along with you for a bit?" I say. "I haven't really had much chance to hang out with other kids my own age before."

"I don't see why not," Lucius says, giving a look to Remus.

"Go ahead, Harry," Remus says. "Have fun." He heads off and leaves me alone with the Malfoys.

"So, do you play Quidditch, Potter?" Draco asks.

"Please, call me Harry," I say. "And no, Quidditch was never really my thing. I'm terrible with brooms. Lucky I don't fall off and break my neck. I like dueling, though. There's no Dueling Club at Hogwarts, though, sadly. But Professor Lupin tells me they're bringing back the Theatre Club, apparently."

"You're interested in theatre?" Draco says dubiously.

"Sure, why not?" I say. "It'll give a good basis for politics, too."

"What do theatre and politics have to do with one another?" Draco wonders.

"What don't they have to do with one another?" I reply.

"Who was that you were here with?" Lucius asks. "Was that one of the teachers? He seemed vaguely familiar."

"That was Remus Lupin," I say. "He's teaching Battle Magic this year." I grin. "Yeah, Dumbledore's finally done away with Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Hmm," Lucius says. "Interesting."

Narcissa catches up to us momentarily. We go over to Ollivander's and get Draco's wand - hawthorn, unicorn hair, ten inches.

As we're leaving the shop, I chuckle at that in a bit of amusement. "Hawthorn, huh," I say. "My great-grandmother's name is Hawthorne."

"Was that on the Potter side, or the Mu- Muggleborn?" Lucius says.

"Lily Evans wasn't a Muggleborn," I say. "Her mother was actually a Squib. I was raised by cousins of hers, a pureblood family living in the United States."

"I see," Lucius says. "Well, that might explain some things. She seemed quite talented for a Mu-"

"Mudblood?" I supply, smirking.

"Yes, that," Lucius says. "Though it would be crass of me to use the term in front of you."

I shrug. "_I'm_ not going to be offended, at any rate."

"Where is your family now, that you were here with a Hogwarts professor?" Lucius wonders. "Did they remain behind in the States?"

"Ah, they- they died," I say.

"All of them?" Draco asks. "What happened?" He pauses for a moment, then seems to realize how abrupt that was. "Sorry, if you don't want to talk about it-"

"It's alright," I say, shaking my head. "I'll tell you all about it. But not here. I'd rather not talk about it out here in public. Besides, it's not like I don't have any family left. I've still got you guys, right?"

"How did you know we're related, anyway?" Draco wonders.

"Hawthorne made me memorize my family tree," I say with a smirk.

"Oh," Draco says.

"Why don't we go back to Malfoy Manor and have some tea?" Lucius suggests.

"That would be nice," I say. I suppress my excitement at getting them to actually invite me over without having to explicitly ask. That'll make things easier.

The four of us take the public Floo back to Malfoy Manor. We head into the parlor, and Dobby brings us some tea and scones.

"How many house-elves do you have?" I ask.

"We have five of them," Lucius says, putting lemon into his tea.

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to sell one?" I ask. "When I got to England, I discovered that I'd inherited some property, you see..."

"Ah, certainly," Lucius says. "It wouldn't do for Harry Potter to have to do household chores."

"That's great!" I say, beaming brightly at him.

"You can take your pick after tea," Lucius says.

"So, um, what happened to your family?" Draco wonders. "The ones who raised you, I mean."

"Draco, let him tell it in his own time," Lucius admonishes.

"It's alright," I say. "We lived in a small village. We were the only magical family around for miles and miles. But there was this dark wizard who called himself Sedder. Not his real name, of course, it was a word in some old language that was supposed to mean 'Shadow' or something. Anyway, he had a grudge against my great-grandmother for some reason or another."

"He- He killed them?" Draco says.

I nod gravely. "He even... I had... There was a set of twins, girls, nine years old, my cousins Helga and Hilda. He... he tortured them to death, made me listen to their screams. It was horrible... but I escaped. I got away, and came to Britain. I don't think he'll follow me here."

The memory of it brings up very real trembling and tears. It's been a long time, but it's not something I could ever forget. Their screams filled my nightmares for years. At least I haven't had the nightmares nearly so frequently lately. I think I'm actually a lot better now than I've been since before the attack.

"That's horrible," Draco says. "How did you escape?"

"Let's just call it a miracle," I say. "And leave it at that."

I imagine that Lucius isn't sure whether to offer me sympathy or to be concerned about the Dark Lord. "Where are you staying now?" Lucius asks. "You mentioned some property. And who is your guardian now?"

"Dumbledore, technically," I say. "But I'm certainly not staying with _him_. He seems content to leave me be, for the most part. I was staying at the Leaky Cauldron for a while, and then at another place, but it's not really in good condition, being abandoned for so long."

"You are welcome to stay with us for a while, if you like," Lucius says. "You can send your new house-elf along to get the place fixed up and move in properly when it's ready to be lived in."

"Could I?" I say brightly, smiling at him. "Thank you!"

I don't remember how I acted when I was actually an innocent child. Was I ever that innocent? I think I'm doing a good job of it, though. Maybe. I've slipped a few times and revealed too much, but I've been able to cover it up so far. I'll need to be careful. At least I won't need to be around the Malfoys too long. Just tonight should do the trick.

We finish tea, and Lucius calls out his five house-elves to stand before me in a line. "These are Muffy, Tinky, Curry, Dobby, and Glod," Lucius says.

I look over at Dobby. "Was this the one who served us tea?" I say.

"Dobby make tea!"

"Ah, Dobby is a bit troublesome at times," Lucius says. "He might be hard to handle."

"But he makes good tea," I say.

"Perhaps you would prefer one of the other ones instead," Lucius says.

I shake my head. "I don't mind if he's a little spirited. He makes good tea."

"Well, if you insist, that's your choice," Lucius says. "I won't charge you full price for such a recalcitrant elf, though. Eight hundred galleons."

"Alright," I say cheerfully. I _really_ don't care to haggle at the moment. Nor am I going to bring out those books for this. I can avoid likely dealing with Parkinson again, but I don't need Lucius's suspicion.

We deal with the formalities of getting the money over to his vault, since I don't have that much on me at the moment, and Lucius transfers ownership of Dobby to me. Narcissa shows me to a guest room where I can stay for the night, and I go in with the excuse of getting cleaned up before dinner.

"Dobby," I say.

"What does New Master wish of Dobby?" He seems positively cheerful at his change in ownership, as if daring to hope that things will be different.

"One moment," I say. "Rispy!"

The other elf pops into the room. "Ah, did you get Dobby?" Rispy asks.

I nod. "Yeah. Give him the secret and show him to the place to get to work."

"Alright," Rispy says. "We could certainly use the help." He leans over and whispers into Dobby's ear, and they both disappear.

So far so good. Now to just grab that diary. I go into the adjoined bathroom to actually take a bath. Then, after dinner, I play a bit of wizard chess with Draco before bed. I take an hour-long nap, and wait patiently for everyone to have gone to sleep.

The house is quiet. I slip out of the guest room and creep downstairs, down to the basement. I go up to a specific wall and make an S motion with my wand, and say, "_Sanctimonia Vincet Semper_." The secret door slides open, allowing me entry into the hidden storage room.

There are many dark artifacts in here, some of them quite dangerous, most of which I don't even know what they do. They aren't what interests me tonight, however. I look around for Tom Riddle's diary. There it is. I almost miss it tucked away on a shelf. I grab it quickly and shove it into my bag of holding. I don't want to touch it or carry it too much, but I'll have to for now. I'm paranoia about winding up possessed.

As I'm turning to leave the room, I hear footsteps from outside. I freeze in mid-stride. That wasn't a house-elf. Lucius is still awake? My heart practically leaps into my throat in a panic. I have to hide. Quickly, I pull my invisibility cloak from my bag and toss it over me. Just in time, as Lucius steps into the doorway, shining wand-light into the secret room.

"Is someone in there?" Lucius demands. "Potter, is that you? Come on out. Show yourself!"

I don't dare to move, barely breathing. This isn't good. It will look really, really suspicious that the door to the secret room was open on the very night that I was invited to stay here.

"_Homenum Revelio_," says Lucius. I feel a strange swooping sensation near me. "I know you're in there. There's no use in hiding. Reveal yourself."

I sigh, and pull off the invisibility cloak. I step into the light, wand in hand. "Hello, Lucius," I say darkly, standing ready in a dueling posture.

"Potter," Lucius says, narrowing his eyes at me. "What are you doing in here?"

"You had something I needed," I reply.

"And what do you think you could possibly do against me if I chose to attack you?" Lucius says.

"Think for a moment, Lucius," I say. "I'm obviously not what I appear to be."

"Polyjuice?" Lucius says, raising an eyebrow.

"Not quite," I say. I focus my Time Magic and urge my body to be older, around twenty. If I'm going to fight, I'd best do it in a form I'm used to. My new clothes, thankfully, change size with me.

"Metamorphmagus?" Lucius hisses. "Who are you really?"

"That's a secret," I say. "Now, Lucius, is it going to be a fight?"

"What did you steal from me?" Lucius demands.

"Also a secret," I reply.

Lucius pauses an glares at me for a few moments, before shouting, "_Stupefy!_"

I dart to the side to avoid the attack, and cast, "_Protego!_" A shield shimmers into existence before me.

"Surrender and answer my questions and I may spare you," Lucius says.

"Sorry, afraid I can't do that," I say. "_Fulgoris!_" I cast. A bolt of lightning shoots from my wand and almost strikes Lucius.

"So, is that the way it's going to be?" Lucius says. "So be it. _Sectumsempra!_"

Slashes open up along my face and neck. Blood gushes out from my throat. I collapse to the floor, bleeding out my lifeblood. I'm dead in moments.

* * *

I wake in the guest room in Malfoy Manor. That didn't go well. I need to be more careful. I _must not_ get caught. I decide to sit up and read a bit, to make certain that I won't be interrupted.

Around three in the morning this time, I sneak out down to the hidden storeroom again. This time, I wear the invisibility cloak the entire time. At the entrance to the storeroom, I cast "_Accio_ Tom Riddle's diary!"

The small book flies out of the room toward me and hits the wall beside me. At least it's not breakable. I bend over and pick it up, and shove it into my bag of holding. I quickly close the secret door and head for the stairs.

I hear footsteps, and hurriedly ascend the stairs out of the basement as quickly and quietly as I can manage. Did Lucius put a contingency spell over the basement? That wasn't there when I snuck in here in the last timeline I came here. Maybe he just didn't trust me all that much this time, whereas he must have trusted me before. Either way, I make my way back toward the guest room, avoiding Lucius. Hopefully he will assume it was a false alarm.

I slip back into my guest room and try to go back to sleep. However, I'm too high strung and paranoid now to rest, so I give up on it after a while. Come morning, still not having slept, I head downstairs for breakfast.

"You look like a wreck, Harry," Draco says. "Didn't sleep well?"

I shake my head. "Couldn't sleep," I say.

"If you're having trouble with nightmares, dear, I can get you a Dreamless Sleep Potion," Narcissa says.

"That's alright," I say. "I think I'll just go home and help Dobby clean the place up. It'll give me something to do."

Lucius is looking at me suspiciously, but he says nothing about the alarm that must have gotten tripped last night. Perhaps he assumes that I was wandering around while being unable to sleep, and it got triggered by mistake.

After breakfast, I take the Floo back to Diagon Alley. I slip away someplace out of sight, and summon up my duck Patronus. "Tell Remus Lupin to come pick me up at the public Apparation point in Diagon Alley."

I head over there, and find Remus already waiting for me. He must have Apparated over immediately. I smile wearily at him. We don't exchange any words, not here in public. He Apparates me back to Caer Danas.

"Mission accomplished," I say. "Now, I'm going to take a nap. I was up all night just to make sure I got the damned thing."

I don't care to mention getting killed in the process. He doesn't need to know that. Even people who know about my power tend to worry needlessly when I die. No, I was really more concerned about the possibility of _not_ dying neatly. My life feels very strange when I'm more worried about a Stunner than anything that could really hurt me.


	4. Black Plans

**Chapter 4: Black Plans**

I leave the diary on a bookshelf in my room for now, paranoid and not wanting to carry it around too much.

The next morning, I hold a meeting with Remus and the two house-elves. Well, more of a discussion of plans over breakfast. I'm glad that Rispy must have convinced Dobby to eat with us like a friend instead of a slave.

"Alright," I say. "Since I forgot to do this yesterday. Dobby, I hereby cancel any previous orders placed on you by anyone other than me. I also forbid you to punish yourself under any circumstances."

Dobby looks positively gleeful, and nods enthusiastically. "Thank you, Master Harry!"

"Now, business," I say. "I need to meet up with the Weasleys as soon as possible. Unfortunately, I don't remember which day they will be in Diagon Alley. So, we're going to have to keep an eye out for them."

"We can take shifts watching for them," Remus says.

"What do we need to look for?" Rispy asks.

"A large group of conspicuous redheads," I say. "Parents, four boys, and a girl."

"Got it," Rispy says, nodding.

Rispy volunteers for the first shift, while the remaining three of us continue to work on the house. I don't want to carry the diary, so I wind up leaving it sitting on a table in the main hall while we're working. Days pass without any sign of the Weasleys. I'm starting to worry that my recollection was wrong, and they'd actually come in July instead. No, no, it was definitely August.

On the eighth of August, Dobby pops in from his shift and says, "Dobby see Wheezeys in alley!"

"Great!" I say. "Good job, Dobby." I grab the diary and shove it in my bag. I'm sure it would be perfectly safe here, but I'm paranoid and not sure that I want to let it out of my sight, just in case. I don't want to leave Remus and the elves alone with it. "Remus, can you get me over there straight away?"

Remus nods, and we head outside to Apparate over to Diagon Alley. "Drop me a word when you need a pickup. Good luck."

I'm so going to get killed. My luck is _never_ good. I nod to him and head off to find the Weasleys. I spot them just coming out of a used book shop. I head over to intercept them. I don't spot any visible sign of Ron having his rat with him at the moment, so either Wormtail was left at home, or he's sleeping deep inside of one of Ron's pockets.

"Hello!" I say brightly, waving to them. "Are any of you going to Hogwarts, too?"

"Oh, hello there, young man," Molly says, smiling at me. "My boys here are. Do you need help with something?"

I shake my head. "Nah. I just wanted to say hi. It's good to meet new friends!"

"Well, it's nice to meet you, then!" Molly says. "I'm Molly Weasley, and these are my children, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny. What's your name?"

"Blimey, could it be..." Fred begins.

"Harry Potter?" George finishes.

I laugh softly. "That would be me." I give them a suave bow. "Boy-Who-Lived, at your service. Need any Dark Lords defeated today?" I glance around. "I don't think there's any around at the moment, though."

Molly looks at me oddly for a moment before she seems to realize that I'm joking, and chuckles. "Are you here alone? Where's your guardians?"

"Oh, they didn't have time to go shopping today, so they just dropped me off," I say.

"That's terrible," Molly says. "A young boy like you shouldn't be running around by himself. Why don't you join us for a while?

"Sounds good to me," I say, smiling at her.

"Have you much shopping left to do?" asks Molly.

"I still need my books and my potions supplies," I say.

"We need to make a stop for potions ingredients, too." Molly herds the group off.

"Are you starting Hogwarts this year, too?" Ron asks.

"It'll be my first year," I say. "Maybe we'll be roommates?" Assuming the hat puts me in Gryffindor again, we will, anyway.

"Did you just move here from the States?" Percy asks. "You sound like you have an American accent."

"Yeah," I say. "I was raised there by cousins of my mother."

I proceed to lead them into the same sob story that I gave the Malfoys, since that worked well enough. If it was effective on Lucius, it should be good enough for Molly.

Sure enough, Molly soon says, "You poor dear. If you don't have anywhere else to go, you can always come and stay with us for a bit!"

"It's not like I don't have a house or anything," I say. "It's just kind of lonely to be by myself."

"You're more than welcome to come and visit us," Molly says. "Why don't you come for dinner, or stay for a night, at least?"

"Well, alright," I say. "I wouldn't want to be a bother or anything."

I've found that the more I protest about not wanting to impose or be a bother, the more eager people seem to be to drag me along. Should I feel bad for intentionally manipulating the Weasleys like this? It's for a good cause, isn't it? And it's not like my friendly words are exactly insincere, either.

I go back to the Burrow with the lot of the Weasleys. The place might be cramped and worn, but I could only wish that someday, Caer Danas might feel nearly so homey. Well, we're working on it, at least.

"You can stay in Ron's room," Molly tells me.

"I'll show you," Ron says, leading me up the stairs. Ron's room is just as messy as I remember it, and I have to grin a little at seeing it. "It's not much, but..."

"I don't mind," I say lightly. "Wow, is that a rat?"

"Yeah," Ron says, with far less excitement than me. "That's Scabbers. He used to belong to Percy, but now he's mine, for whatever that's worth. He never does anything but sleep all the time."

"Rats are awesome, though," I say, going over to pick up the rat and pet him. Wormtail stirs slightly in my grasp, but doesn't suspect anything wrong. "I always wanted a rat, but my family would never let me have one. Said they spread disease and all that. But he's such a nice, quiet one, isn't he. I love him."

Ron looks at me dubiously. "Well, if you really like him so much, you can have him, as far as I'm concerned."

"Oh, I couldn't just take your pet," I say. "How about I buy him off of you? I can give you a few galleons so you can get yourself a new one or something. Would that be alright?"

"You don't have to that," Ron says. "Worthless rodent isn't even worth a single galleon, anyway."

"No, no, I insist," I say, pulling out a few galleons from my pocket and putting them on the desk. "I'll feel awful if I just come in and steal your pet from you without giving you anything in return."

"But-" Ron protests.

"No buts!" I say, grinning at him. "I think your wonderful rat is worth three galleons, so there you go. Fair trade. Alright?"

"Well... I suppose..." Ron says dubiously.

Ron stares at the galleons for a minute before finally deciding to just take them already when I don't back down. He leaves the room to let me settle in.

"So, Scabbers, you're my rat now," I say. "My precious, pretty rat. I'll take good care of you, and I'll make sure you get _everything_ that you deserve."

If Wormtail notices anything wrong with my tone, he doesn't show it. I leave him asleep on the pillow of the spare bed. Should it bother me more than it does to knowingly share a bed with this man?

No, it really bothers me more to still be carrying around this diary. I pull it out and slip it under a pile of books on the desk, where nobody's going to notice it. It'll be safe enough there until it's time to go home.

After dinner, I head up to the twins' room and knock on the door. So long as I'm here, I'd like to take care of another potential loose end. They never noticed that the name on the map wasn't "Harry Potter" before, but I don't want to take any chances.

"Come in," one of the twins says. I enter the room. "Oh, Harry. What can we do for you?"

"I just want to talk," I say, closing the door behind me and grinning. I pull out my wand and mutter, "_Muffliato. Colloportus_."

"Mum'll go spare if she notices you doing underage magic out of school," George says.

"Not that _we're_ going to tell her or anything," Fred adds.

"Let's talk business, guys," I say. "Tell me, what would you do with a thousand galleons?"

Their eyes widen. "You aren't seriously considering just giving us a thousand galleons, are you?"

"No," I say. "I'm kind of curious, though."

"Well, we always wanted to start our own joke shop..." George says.

"Products. Testing. Advertising," Fred says.

I grin. "Good answer. Alright, let me explain. I've recently become acquainted with a friend of my father, a fellow by the name of Remus Lupin. Also known as Moony."

"Moony?" they say in unison.

"Apparently, my father was called Prongs in school, too," I say.

"Really?"

"And Remus was telling me about this marvelous creation that he and his friends came up with," I say. "An amazing map that shows Hogwarts. They spent a lot of time exploring the place and plotting out several secret passages. I understand that this map has fallen into other hands now, however." I look at them meaningfully.

"How..." Fred stammers.

"How did you know we had it?" George says.

I smirk. "I have my ways."

"Mysterious," Fred says.

"Secretive," George agrees.

"Indeed," I agree. "I'd like to buy the map off of you."

"For a thousand galleons?" Fred says, raising an eyebrow.

"But if it belonged to your father, it's rightfully yours to begin with," George says. "You don't need to give us anything for it."

"I have a few other requests on top of the map, though," I say.

"Like what?" Fred asks.

I start counting off on my fingers. "You don't ask how I found out you had it. Actually, let's make that you don't ask how I found out _anything_ that I found out about. You don't let on to anyone that you ever had it, that I have it now, or that it even exists. That shouldn't be difficult as you haven't exactly been advertising it to begin with."

"Of course," George says.

"You don't target me for pranks, no matter how much you think I deserve it at the time," I go on, smirking. "Although being caught in a widespread prank is acceptable, so long as I'm not the one being targeted."

"No pranking you, alright..." Fred says.

"And, one more thing... I'm very interested in what sorts of things you might come up with," I say. "I'd like you to be open for supplying me if needed, and taking the occasional request. And I'll be perfectly willing to supply more money if it's necessary for results."

"So in other words, we'll be working for you?" George asks.

"Think of me as a patron," I say with a grin.

"Hmm," Fred says. "I think this might be a good deal, brother of mine."

"Indeed," George says. "I think this could work out in our favor."

"It's a deal," Fred says.

George pulls out the map and passes it over to me. I take it and pull out a bag of galleons. "I have a hundred galleons on me at the moment. I'll bring you the rest on the train. Will that be alright?"

"Quite," Fred says, eyes widening as he takes the bag.

"So, do you have any requests to start off with, oh generous patron?" George says.

"Tell me, how good are you with potions?" I ask.

"It's one of our best subjects," Fred replies.

"Or at least it would be, if Snape weren't a prat," George says.

I pull out one of the essence pods from my bag. "This is called an essence pod." I open it up and show them the liquid inside. "This potion is used to restore someone's magical energy. I only have six of them, and I can't get more. And don't ask where I got them." I grin at them. "Do you think you might be able to analyze this and duplicate it somehow?"

"Well, we can certainly try," Fred says, taking the gourd and sniffing at the fluid inside.

"Consider it a long-term project," I say. "If it takes you five, ten years, or longer yet, to figure it out, I'll still consider it a victory."

"We'll consider it a challenge," George says.

"Although, think of the things we could do with something like this," Fred says. "If we set it up right, we might be able to use it to power other effects."

"Definitely worth looking into," George agrees.

I grin. "Thanks. I wish you well with that. I'll be very interested in your results."

I cancel my spells and head to bed.

* * *

In the morning, I scoop up Wormtail and let him sleep in my pocket, and go down to eat breakfast with the Weasleys. I'm excited about my success. Not only did I obtain Wormtail in such a way that he's not even trying to escape, not _only_ did I get my hands on the Marauder's Map, but I even successfully employed the services of the Weasley Twins. I think it's going to be a very good year.

"Will you be alright going back home by yourself?" Molly asks.

"I'll be fine," I say. "I've got a friend to meet up with in Diagon Alley today, anyhow."

"Who is it?" Ron asks.

"A new professor, actually," I say. "He was a friend of my father's."

"What does he teach?" Percy asks.

"Battle Magic," I reply.

"Oh, that's what they renamed Defense Against the Dark Arts, isn't it?" Percy asks.

"Maybe this'll mean we won't have anymore useless teachers trying to teach us how to defend ourselves," George says.

"One can certainly hope," Percy says.

I take the Floo back to Diagon Alley and step off somewhere private to send my Patronus to Remus to come and pick me up. He arrives in short order, and Apparates me back to Caer Danas. Remus opens his mouth to stay something, but I silence him with a finger over my lips.

I pull Wormtail out of my pocket, careful to keep my body between him and his view of Remus. "There's a good rat," I murmur, pulling out my wand and pointing it at him. "Now why don't you just keep napping. _Stupefy!_"

Remus comes over and gets a good look at the rat. "Yeah, that's him. That's Peter, alright."

I hand him over to Remus. "You've got the Quaffle now," I say. "See what you can do with him. Let's find out if we can get Sirius freed."

"I'll take him straight to Albus," Remus says. He heads out with the unconscious rat firmly in hand.

I get back to work on the house with the two elves, feeling much better about things. It's like a burden taken off my shoulders. Soon, Sirius will be free, and he'll be able to join us here.

That evening, Remus returns to the house. "Peter's been taken to the Ministry for questioning."

"Maybe they'll actually _do_ something about this," I say. "I'm not one to make any bets, however."

"You don't trust the Ministry, do you," Remus says.

"Not in the least," I say. "I fully expect that I will wind up having to break Sirius out of Azkaban myself. But I'm at least willing to give them the chance to do the right thing."

"You really broke Sirius out of Azkaban before?" Remus says.

"Multiple times," I say. "I can do it again, if I must."

"Give them some time first," Remus says. "It'll be better if he's not a fugitive when he gets out."

I nod. "I'll be generous, and give them until Christmas to do something. Otherwise, those Dementors are going to get a face full of duck Patronus and Sirius is getting the best Christmas present ever."

* * *

I want to take the opportunity to look through some bookstores in Diagon Alley and even Knockturn Alley for any information they might have on destroying dark artifacts.

"I think you might attract some unfortunate attention by that line of research," Remus comments to me upon hearing of my plans. "Perhaps it would be best if I did this?"

"Hmm, wait," I say. I focus on my Time Magic and shift my body older. My muscles ache and my skin crawls, and I settle upon the age of sixty or so. "Nobody will suspect _this_ of Harry Potter."

"I didn't realize you could do that," Remus says. "You're a Metamorphmagus?"

"Not exactly, but something similar," I say. "This is the form I was using to watch for the Weasleys. Less conspicuous than an eleven year old boy hanging out all day by himself, even if nobody noticed the scar."

We head over and start looking through bookstores over the next week. At least in Remus's case, he can claim that it's for his job, after all. And I'm just assisting him. Unfortunately, the information is a little hard to find, especially considering that we're not entirely certain just _what_ the diary really is.

While we're there, I also keep an eye out for anyone that might be selling basilisk venom. I doubt I'll find any, but it's worth a look, at least. With my typical luck, however, there's not a drop for sale anywhere.

We also make regular trips to the Ministry, in order to keep up on developments in Sirius's case. While doing that, I take a precious opportunity to speak with Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic.

"I would have thought that you would want the one responsible for your parents' deaths to see justice," Fudge says.

"I do," I say. "But something doesn't add up here. Peter Pettigrew was supposed to be dead, wasn't he?"

"Well, yes," Fudge says. "And the man we have in custody now does seem to be Peter Pettigrew."

"I just want to make sure we have the right man," I say. "Peter could have faked his death and let Sirius take the blame for it! I have little enough family left. What if my godfather turns out to be innocent after all?"

"We will certainly look into the matter," Fudge says. "It'll cause quite the stir, though, if it turns out that an innocent man spent ten years in Azkaban."

"I'm not going to blame you for the mistakes of the one who held office before you," I say. "I just want to make sure justice is done _now_. I'm only concerned about the future, not the past."

The next day at the Ministry, we encounter a stern-faced older woman. "So, are you the one forwarding my grand-nephew's case?"

"Cassiopeia Black?" Remus says, raising an eyebrow.

"Surprised to see me here?" Cassiopeia says. She looks down at me. "And who might you be? Harry Potter, is it?"

"Yes, ma'am," I say. "May I call you Aunt Cassie?"

Cassiopeia snorts softly. "If you must. If most of my remaining kin are blood traitors and half-bloods, then so be it. At least Narcissa married a good pureblood man."

"My mother wasn't really a Muggleborn," I say. "Her mother was actually a Squib from a pureblood family."

"Well, I suppose that's a bit better," Cassiopeia says, and sighs. "Still, whatever I might think of the people Sirius associated with, he's the last living male Black now. My brother Pollux passed on last year, and my cousin Arcturus died just last month."

"I'm sorry for your losses," I say.

"They were growing old," Cassiopeia says, shaking her head. "As am I. It remains that, like it or not, Sirius is now the head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. And if he should die without issue, there will be no more Blacks. Therefore, blood traitor or no, it is in my best interest that he should be acquitted. Walburga might have disagreed with my assessment. I'm sure that she would have prefered to see the House of Black die than have it fall into Sirius's hands."

"Forgive me for saying, but aren't you younger than Dumbledore?" I ask.

Cassiopeia nods. "Indeed. He has several decades on me. We Blacks never live so long, though. Our lives take a toll on us."

"Is it because he's a light wizard?" I wonder.

Cassiopeia snorts. "Speculate if you like, but I am not foolish enough to openly proclaim myself to be a dark witch in the midst of the Ministry of Magic."

"It was just a thought," I say. "I'm not going to judge you for it. I've just lost enough family members as it is. I'd hate to lose you, too. I've barely met you."

"Unless you possess the Elixir of Life, I don't think there's any stopping that," Cassiopeia says with a smirk.

Maybe not the Elixir of Life, but it's not like _I'm_ in any danger of dying of old age, unless I accidentally push my Time Magic too far. I wish I could use it on others, too. Have I even _tried_ using it on others before? I can't remember. I'd think I would know if I had. But I'll never find out unless I try.

I call upon my Time Magic and focus upon Cassiopeia. It doesn't seem to quite reach her, though. I grab her arm with my left hand. She looks surprised but doesn't pull away. It's easy for me to change myself, but harder to _direct_ that power. It's like trying to aim with my Lightning Magic. It took a lot of practice to get it to go at a target, rather than explode all around me.

"What are you doing?" Cassiopeia asks.

"Shh," I say. "Let me focus."

There's probably an emotional component to this, too. Love, maybe? Innocence? Is that even an emotion? I bring to mind an image of playing with my cousins on the green hills of Lezaria. A warm summer day, with the bright sun Yallia shining down above. Child-like innocence, untouched by hate, unspoiled by war. Love for my family. _The calm before the storm._

A surge of energy rushes through me. It bursts through like water rushing out of a breaking dam. It feels like all the energy poured out of me. I barely manage to stay standing for a couple seconds, to see the astonished face of a young girl in front of me. Then I pass out.

* * *

I wake with a groan, and blink up at the white ceiling. Where am I? If I died, this was not where I woke up this morning.

"Finally awake, are you?" says a witch I don't recognize.

"Where..." I mutter.

"You're in St. Mungo's, lad," the witch tells me. "You've been out of it for three days. You've been here ever since you collapsed in the Ministry."

"What happened?" I ask.

"Severe magical exhaustion, from the looks of things," the witch says - she must be a healer or something. "You've probably been under a lot of strain, what with the mess with your godfather, and it finally caught up to you."

"Oh," I say. I think back on what happened before I passed out. Right, I'd just used an ability in a way I've never tried before. That was probably what drained me to the point of collapse. "Can I go home now?"

"We'll just run a few more diagnostic spells on you to make sure you'll be alright," the healer says. "I'll notify Professor Lupin to come pick you up. Oh, and shall I send your cousin in? Poor girl has refused to go far from you for too long ever since you were brought here."

"Ah, yes," I say, a little confused.

The healer leaves the room, and a minute later, a dark-haired girl of about ten or eleven comes in.

"Harry!" the young girl says. "I was so worried about you!" It takes me several long moments to recognize the same stern expression that Cassiopeia Black wore.

"Cassie?" I ask.

"Of course it's me," Cassie says. "Who did you think it was? Did you hit your head when you fell?"

"Heh, give me a break, Cassie, I've been out of it for three days, apparently," I say.

"Then I get to be the one to tell you the good news!" Cassie says. "They're going to let my father go free!"

"Your father?" I say. "Sirius?"

"They're letting him out of Azkaban," Cassie says. "He'll be a free man again in a few days! Oh, he's going to be _so_ surprised to see me."

"Yeah, he probably doesn't even realize you exist," I say dryly.

Another healer comes in and casts a few spells over me. "Looks good," he says. "You're clear to go. Professor Lupin is waiting for you in the lobby."

"Come on," Cassie says, grabbing me by the arm and practically dragging me out of the hospital room. I think she's probably doing a better job than me at pretending to be a kid.

"Ah, there you are, children," Remus says. "Good to see you up and about again, Harry. You gave me quite the scare."

"It's alright," I say. "Can we go home now? Please?"

"I'll have to Side-Along Apparate the both of you," Remus says. "So come on close, hold tight."

After the sensation of being squeezed through a tube, we arrive at the gazebo behind Caer Danas with a pop. I step out into the gardens with a sigh.

"Where are we?" Cassie says, looking around and failing to see the house.

"My home," I say. "It's under the Fidelius Charm." I look at her appraisingly, and smirk. "But I suppose it's a little late to wonder whether we can trust you or not. You've gotten dragged into this one way or another, anyway. Rispy!"

Rispy pops into existence in front of me. "Ah, you bring someone else you want let in?"

"This here is Cassie Black," I say. "Go ahead and tell her the secret."

Rispy does so, and Cassie says, "The Order of the Phoenix?"

"Such as it is," I say. "I kind of commandeered it from Dumbledore. Come on inside, and I'll explain everything." I smile at her. "And then we'll have to decide whether or not to kill you. I mean, Obliviate you."

"Oh, that's reassuring," Cassie says, following along into the house. "For the record, I was never a supporter of the Dark Lord. I prefered to mind my own business and do magical research in peace."

We get inside, and I flop down on the couch in the main hall, and gesture at her to take a seat. "I would really rather have not been taken to St. Mungo's," I say with a sigh.

"I didn't know what else to do," Remus says. "After you... did whatever it was you did, you wouldn't wake up no matter what we tried. But the healers just said it was magical exhaustion and you'd be fine with some rest."

I shake my head. "It's alright," I say. "It's not the first time it's happened, and probably won't be the last. Just in the future, just take me somewhere quiet to rest."

"How _did_ you do that?" Cassie says. "Look at me! I was all ready to die, standing on the threshold of death's door, and now suddenly, I have a whole life ahead of me again?"

"I can change my own age at will," I say. "I didn't realize I could do it to others, too. Well, it looks like I _can_ but it's not easy, or free. It took everything out of me. And I don't even know if it brought you down to a specific age, or if someone much younger than you would have just vanished out of existence from trying to do that. I wasn't _trying_ to make you a little girl again."

"Well, I'm hardly about to complain," Cassie says. "Professor Lupin did some quick thinking and altered some records to make it so the older me is supposed to be dead, and that I'm Sirius's daughter. He even got me signed up for Hogwarts this year. Pretty clever. I'll overlook the fact that he's a half-blood." She smirks at him.

"I did have some help from Dumbledore on getting the records faked," Remus says.

"Who's the mother?" I wonder.

"Um..." Cassie says, shifting uneasily. "Well, it was easier to claim that Sirius had a fling with a Muggleborn witch who was killed toward the end of the war. So I suppose I should really keep quiet about the whole blood thing, shouldn't I." She laughs nervously.

"I got her school supplies for her while you were in the hospital," Remus says.

"So you're going to Hogwarts again?" I say.

"Why not?" Cassie says. "It'll be interesting. I have fond memories of my school years, but things have changed so much since then."

"I suppose I can't really say much," I say. "You won't be the only one with more knowledge of magic there than any first year should have. I'm a time traveler, you see."

Cassie blinks at me. "I suppose that's tied in with your ability to change ages?"

I nod. "I have inborn Time Magic. I'm not sure yet what the scope of it might be. I haven't really experimented with it much."

"You should!" Cassie says. "How else can you ever learn?"

"Perhaps," I say, chuckling. "I guess I've just been afraid to, you know? It keeps me alive, you know." I explain to her the details of how it works.

"Fascinating," Cassie says. "I should dearly love a chance to study you."

"Why does that thought make me so nervous?" I say with a smirk.

* * *

The next day, I take another visit with Remus to Diagon Alley to look for books that might shed some light on the diary. We wind up purchasing a few promising books from a store in Knockturn Alley before returning home.

"Alright, this looks like an analysis spell we can use on it to better determine its nature," I say.

"Let's try that out," Remus says. "Where did you put it?"

It's not on the bookshelf in the main hall where I was sure I'd left it. I check my bedroom as well, but it's not there either.

"Dobby! Rispy!" I call, and the two elves promptly appear. "Is Tom Riddle's diary anywhere in the house?"

They look around, and come back to say, "We can't find it anywhere."

"Fuck," I mutter. "Where's Cassie?"

"Miss Cassie is in her room," Dobby says. "Should Dobby tell her you want to see her?"

"Please do," I say.

Dobby disappears with a pop, and a few minutes later, the young dark-haired girl comes downstairs. "Is something wrong?" Cassie asks.

"Have you seen a diary?" I wonder. "A small Muggle-style book, with the name Tom Riddle on it."

Cassie frowns for a moment, and shakes her head. "I have not. Is there some significance to this object?"

"It's a dangerous dark artifact, and I need to destroy it," I say, and sigh. "And now it's missing. Fuck."

"If you're afraid that I might have stolen it, don't worry," Cassie says. "I haven't even left the house since I arrived here, and would have no interest in a Muggle diary, regardless."

"I believe you," I say. "I just wish I knew what had happened to it. Did I leave it at Diagon Alley? At the Ministry? At St. Mungo's? At the Burrow?"

"Where was the last place you saw it?" Remus asks.

"I don't remember," I say. "I was _sure_ I'd left it right here." I gesture at the bookshelf. "Merlin, I'm an idiot." I sigh, throwing up my hands helplessly.

* * *

Sirius is a wreck when he's released from Azkaban. A couple healers look him over carefully and give him some potions to try to relieve some of the physical issues, as well as a hefty amount of chocolate. He doesn't seem to quite recognize any of us, though. I suppose that shouldn't be surprising.

"Come on, Sirius," Remus says. "Let's get you home."

Remus Side-Along Apparates Sirius to Caer Danas. Making sure nobody's looking, Cassie Apparates me back as well. Rispy pops out when we arrive and says, "This is Sirius Black, I assume?"

"Yeah-" Remus begins.

"I'm Sirius Black," Sirius says. "I'm Sirius Black! And I'm innocent! And free!"

Rispy gets him the secret, and we take him inside. Remus sits Sirius down on the couch, and Dobby brings him a mug of hot chocolate.

"Remus?" Sirius says. "I hardly recognized you. How's life been treating you? And who are these kids? Are they yours?"

"No, but one of them is _yours_," Remus says with a smirk. "Or at least, we're claiming she is. The boy is Harry Potter."

Cassie chuckles, and says, "I'm your great-aunt Cassiopeia Black. Now your daughter, Cassiopeia Black."

"Creative," Sirius says with a smirk. "How did that happen?"

"Let's call it a magical accident," I say.

"And this is little Harry?" Sirius says, looking at me appraisingly. "I didn't realize so much time had passed. Merlin..."

We spend some time filling in Sirius on the details, and telling Sirius exactly who he was supposed to have slept with and when, just to get our stories straight.

"This is all a bit overwhelming," Sirius says.

"Maybe it's best to have a tasty dinner, a nice, hot bath, and a good night's sleep in a soft bed," I say. "Give you some time to adjust."

"Don't get me wrong," Sirius says. "I'm glad to see you all. Yes, even you, Cassie. And I'm _certainly_ glad to be out of Azkaban and away from those Dementors. It's hard to believe that I'm really a free man again."

"No kidding," I say. "I didn't believe that the Ministry would ever own up to it and let you go."

"The heartfelt speech you gave to the Minister probably helped," Remus says wryly.


	5. Shuffle

**Chapter 5: Shuffle**

After I send him a letter, Ron replies that he hasn't seen my diary. I must have carelessly left it someplace else. How could I be so stupid? But none of my searches come up with anything. I suppose there's nothing else to be done about it right now. If it turns up at Hogwarts, I'll know. Somebody might wind up dying for it, but if I'm alert, I can always go back and stop it if need be.

"It's totally not fair that you three get to go to Hogwarts," Sirius says, practically pouting. "Cassie! Can you exorcise Binns so I can get a job teaching History of Magic or something?"

Cassie smirks. "You, teach History of Magic? You'd need to _study_ it first."

"You could always come as my pet dog," I say lightly.

"Now there's a thought..." Sirius says.

Remus snorts at the idea. "Relax, Sirius. We'll send you owls, and visit. And it's not like you'll need to stay cooped up in the house all the time, either."

"And you've got two friendly house-elves who _aren't_ Kreacher," I say.

"There is that," Sirius says. "Rispy is surprisingly eloquent."

"And you might wind up getting other company, too, depending on what Dumbledore ends up doing," Remus says. "It _is_ the Order of the Phoenix headquarters, after all."

"And with the diary missing, that may well wind up more necessary than I'd hoped for," I say grimly.

"Alright, alright," Sirius says. "I suppose it's not so bad. At least there's no Dementors here."

Sirius sees Cassie and me off to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. The familiar red train is waiting to take us to Hogwarts. We wave goodbye to Sirius and climb on board, and take a seat in the first empty compartment we find.

"This is so exciting!" Cassie practically squees. "I get to finally go to Hogwarts!" I have to admire her dedication to her role, even when nobody is looking. The only time she seems to drop it is in the safety of Caer Danas.

"Excuse me," Ron says, poking his head into the compartment. "Is there room in here? Everywhere else is full up."

"Oh, hey, Ron," I say. "Come on in, it's just the two of us in here."

"Is this a friend of yours, Harry?" Cassie asks.

"Cassie, this is Ron Weasley," I say, gesturing to the redhead who is taking a seat. "Ron, meet Cassie Black."

"Black?" Ron says, frowning and practically jumping from his seat.

"Oh, relax, I'm not going to hex you or anything," Cassie says.

"But my dad tells me that the Blacks are all blood purist dark wizards and witches," Ron says.

"Well, _I'm_ not," Cassie says, pouting. "I'm a half-blood!"

"Ron, that was awfully rude of you," I say. "You're going to make her cry!"

"I'm sorry," Ron says, looking sheepish.

"That's okay," Cassie says, going back to smiling again. "I forgive you."

"So, what house do you suppose you'll be in?" Ron wonders. "Think you'll be in Slytherin with all the rest of your family?"

"My father was in Gryffindor!" Cassie says. "But personally, I'm hoping for Ravenclaw."

"Ravenclaw?" I say with a little surprise. "Really?"

Cassie nods. "It sounds good to me. They're supposed to be really smart, and I want to learn everything I can about magic."

"Huh," Ron says, then looks to me. "So, Harry, how's Scabbers doing?"

"Oh, Ron!" I say. "You're not going to believe what happened."

"What happened?" Ron asks.

"I took him home, and Professor Lupin took a look at him, and recognized him!" I say. "He recognized Peter Pettigrew's unregistered Animagus form! Thanks to you, Sirius Black was discovered to be innocent. My godfather, and Cassie's father, is now free again." I beam at him.

"Wait, what?" Ron says. "Wait a minute. Scabbers... my rat was an _Animagus_? But, he- he slept in my bed! He slept in Percy's bed for years!" He looks positively green at the thought.

"What an awful man," Cassie says, making a face.

"Excuse me," Ron says, standing up. "I've got to go find Percy." He quickly leaves the compartment.

"Poor Percy," I say, chuckling softly.

Shortly afterward, Hermione turns up. "Have either of you seen a toad?"

"Did Neville lose his toad again?" I say.

"Yes," Hermione says. She looks at me, and her eyes rest on my forehead. "Oh! You must be Harry Potter!"

"That's me," I say, smiling at her. "And this is my cousin, Cassie Black. And you are?"

"I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione says, coming in and helping herself to a seat. "I read all about you-" she proceeds to rattle off a list of books, but I hold up a hand and interrupt her.

"Hermione," I say. "Now, I don't mind, but going up to people and telling them that you read all about them probably isn't the best way to make a good first impression."

"Oh," Hermione says. "I'm sorry. I'm just so excited about going to Hogwarts, you see. I've heard it's the finest magical institute in Britain. It was such a surprise when I got my letter, since nobody else in my family is magical at all."

"Ah," Cassie says. "A Muggleborn. That explains it."

"What do you mean?" Hermione wonders.

"The way you're so excited about it and spouting off things you've read in books," I say. "We're excited too, but we've _lived_ in this world. What do your parents do?"

"They're dentists," Hermione says. "Why?"

"Imagine if someone came into your parents' dentistry place," I say. "And said that they'd read all about dentistry in some book or another. And then kept going on about things they already know as if they're amazing new facts."

"Oh..." Hermione says. "I never thought about it like that."

I smile at her reassuringly. "I know you're excited and all, but do try to settle down. You can tell people about all the wonderful things you've read when they actually ask or express an interest in it, rather than going on and spouting random facts at everyone within earshot."

"Right," Hermione says. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Now, why don't you go ask one of the prefects for help finding Neville's toad?" I say. "Ask one of the older students to cast a Summoning Charm." I'd just do it myself, but it would be a little _too_ obvious if a first year could cast that before even arriving at school.

"Thanks, I'll do that!" Hermione says, heading out of the compartment again.

"I hope she takes your advice to heart," Cassie mutters. "I don't fancy listening to an over-enthusiastic Muggleborn for the next seven years."

"She means well," I say, shrugging.

Draco turns up at our compartment next. I note that he appears to be missing Crabbe and Goyle. "I heard Harry Potter's in this compartment," he says. "Mind if I sit?"

"Go ahead," I say. "Nice to see you again, Draco."

Draco takes a seat next to me. "Who's your girlfriend?"

I snort softly. "This is Cassie Black, and she's _not_ my girlfriend."

"A Black?" Draco says. "I hadn't realized that there were any Blacks around my age. Where'd you grow up?"

"I haven't actually been to Britain before," Cassie says. "I was raised by my great-grandfather Arcturus, in France. But he passed on this July."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Draco says.

"It's alright," Cassie says, smiling at him. "I've got my father back now, so I'm happy."

"Your father?" Draco says. "You mean Sirius Black?"

Cassie nods. "I'd wanted to come here to go to Hogwarts, anyway. I didn't really care to go to Beauxbatons."

"Hogwarts is _so_ much better," Draco says. "Although I wouldn't mind going to Durmstrang, either."

"It's entirely too cold there," Cassie says disdainfully.

A little while later, the sweets trolley comes by, and we buy a bunch of treats. Cassie eats more than me and Draco combined.

"You're going to make yourself sick, Cassie," I say.

"Don'f gare," Cassie slurs through a mouthful of Cauldron Cake.

Ron returns shortly, but stops in the doorway to stare at Draco. "Who- Wait, are you a Malfoy?"

"Draco Malfoy," Draco says absently, looking up at him. "Are you a Weasley?" He smirks. "So long as we're asking silly questions."

"Ron Weasley," Ron says. He looks at me questioningly. "You're hanging out with a Black _and_ a Malfoy now?"

I snort softly. "If you're going to be bigoted, Ron, you can go somewhere else."

"_Me_ bigoted?" Ron says, looking at me in shock. "But-"

"You're the one who started with those comments," I say. "Look, Ron. Your mum's great. Your brothers are awesome. But I'm not going to put up with anyone insulting my friends. Don't judge people by their families."

"I..." Ron says. "Sorry. I'll go." He quickly exits the compartment.

"Good job getting rid of that blood traitor," Draco says.

"You're calling someone a blood traitor in front of two half-bloods," I say wryly.

"Er," Draco says uneasily. "Right, never mind." He smirks. "Maybe _I_ shouldn't be hanging out with _you_, either. But I don't really care."

"All I'm saying is, don't be hypocritical," I say.

"Hey, I can be hypocritical if I want to be," Draco says.

I snicker. "Just so long as you know when you are."

The train arrives at Hogsmeade Station, and we climb off. I head along with Cassie and Draco with the rest of the first years to the boats to take us across the lake. I might not be nearly as impressed as I was the first time, but I'm not so jaded that I can't appreciate the view.

We're brought into the entry hall for the Sorting. The anticipation and excitement among the batch of eleven year olds is nearly palpable.

"My brothers said you have to wrestle a troll!" Ron says.

I snicker softly, and don't even bother correcting him. I don't care all that much. Soon enough, we're brought into the Great Hall to listen to the Sorting Hat sing its song.

"That is not a troll," I murmur wryly to Ron.

I settle in to watch the Sorting with interest. "Abbott, Hannah" goes to Hufflepuff straight off. "Black, Cassiopeia!" gets called up next.

Cassie goes up to the front and puts the Sorting Hat on her head. She sits on the stool for what must be a good ten minutes while the hat wrinkles itself up and contorts itself in every which way, as if trying to decide what to do with her. Finally, it shouts, "RAVENCLAW!"

"Ravenclaw?" Ron whispers. "But she's a Black!"

"And she's a Ravenclaw," Draco says. "What's your problem?"

I try to pay attention to who gets Sorted where. Was Kevin Entwhistle a Hufflepuff before, or was he in Ravenclaw? I can't remember. But Anthony Goldstein definitely wasn't a Gryffindor. Then Hermione gets called up next, and is under the hat for a long time as well before it calls out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

I'd been wondering if that would change. Neville gets sorted into Gryffindor, unsurprisingly, and then "Malfoy, Draco!" gets called up. He gives me a smug grin and goes up to the front.

Before, the hat put him in Slytherin after hardly even touching his head. But this time, he sits there for no less than fifteen minutes, arguing with it no doubt, before the hat calls out "RAVENCLAW!"

"_Ravenclaw!_" Ron repeats, dumbfounded.

_What_ did I say to Draco to change that? Was it because of Cassie? Or what I said to him in the tailor? What _did_ I say to him in the tailor? I talked about the houses, didn't I. Somehow, I managed to change something, and he got sorted into Ravenclaw instead.

I'm so caught up in my thoughts that Ron has to poke me when my name is called. "Go on, Harry, they're calling for you."

"Oh, oops," I say. I hurry up to the front and put the Sorting Hat on my head.

"Well, hello there, Lexen Chelseer," the hat says in my mind. "Hmm, now where shall I put you? You'd probably fit quite well into any of the houses, really. Plenty of courage, a good mind, loyal, ambitious..."

"Just put me wherever I belong," I say, looking wistfully over at Cassie and Draco at the Ravenclaw table. "You thought my Gryffindor traits were strongest before, didn't you?"

"This appears to be true, from what you remember of it," the Sorting Hat says. "But it would seem that your fundamental motivations and goals have changed since then. You have different priorities now. You no longer seek to protect others at the expense of all else. Now, you primarily seek knowledge, for its own sake even. This means you're going to RAVENCLAW!"

"Thanks," I think. I smile as I pull the hat off of my head, and go over to sit with my friends.

"Good job, Harry," Cassie says. "You got Ravenclaw too!"

"And you didn't need to argue with the hat for a quarter of an hour to do it," Draco says with a smirk.

"How _did_ you guys ever manage to get Ravenclaw?" I wonder.

Cassie murmurs barely audibly, "People don't always realize, when they're eleven years old, what would be best for _them_, rather than merely what is expected of them by their family."

"I made a different choice..." Draco says quietly. "I decided not to just take the _easy_ path." He grins at the two of us. "And this is all the fault of you two."

"Don't look at me," Cassie says. "I didn't do anything but get Sorted before you."

I smirk and watch the rest of the Sorting. There's no more big surprises, although there might still be some differences somehow since I don't really remember everyone in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. "Weasley, Ron" gets sent to Gryffindor, and "Zabini, Blaise" to Slytherin.

"Welcome to Ravenclaw," a prefect girl says to the new first years.

Dumbledore stands up and says, "Welcome, welcome everyone to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin, I'd like to say a few words. And here they are: Pickle! Feckless! Loofah! Pants!"

"He gives such stirring speeches, doesn't he?" Cassie comments.

After the feast, Dumbledore gets up again. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I have some announcements to make. First off, we are discontinuing Defense Against the Dark Arts, due to various circumstances. Please welcome Professor Lupin, who will be teaching Battle Magic this year."

I give Lupin a standing ovation, cheering him on. A number of other students also applaud politely.

"Among other scheduling changes, Astronomy is now an elective rather than a primary class," Dumbledore says. "Second years who took it last year have the option of continuing it a year early, if desired. We are also adding a new elective, Wizarding Politics. To that end, please welcome our other new teacher, Professor Malfoy."

I hadn't really paid attention to the head table. I stare up with surprise. I hadn't expected that Dumbledore would get _him_ to come and teach it, but I suppose someone had to. Still, why didn't he ask me first? Is he violating our agreement already? The blond wizard stands up and gives a suave bow, sweeping his immaculate emerald green robes.

"Merlin!" Draco breathes. "He didn't even tell _me_ he was doing this!" He obviously hadn't seen Lucius up front either.

"Don't feel bad about not noticing," Cassie whispers. "He was Disillusioned and just canceled it when Dumbledore announced it."

After a couple more moments of stunned quiet, I remember to applaud, and Draco and Cassie quickly join in. Most of the applause for the new Professor Malfoy is from the Slytherin table, although there's some other Ravenclaws who are enthusiastic about it as well.

Draco looks like he wants to sink into the floor. He was positively exuberant about being in Ravenclaw, but he obviously wasn't expecting his father to be present and watching. Far easier to deal with someone through owls, and normally he wouldn't have seen Lucius in person for months, plenty of time for the surprise to wear off.

I put my hand reassuringly on his shoulder. "Relax, Draco. There's no shame in being in Ravenclaw. You should be proud of it."

"But, what if he's upset about it?" Draco hisses with an expression of near-panic.

Cassie snorts softly. "And now we see why you'd never be in Gryffindor."

"I think it's great that you're in Ravenclaw," Terry Boot says. "We'll be dorm mates!"

Dumbledore is continuing on, warning about the Forbidden Forest being off-limits, not to use magic in the corridors between classes, Filch's list of banned items, Quidditch tryouts, and so forth.

As the feast breaks up and the prefects start showing the first years to their new dorms, Draco goes up to talk to Professor Malfoy. I'm not sure if I should tag along, but Cassie goes along with him, and she winds up dragging me by the sleeve.

"Father," Draco says.

"Draco," Lucius says. "However, you should call me 'Professor Malfoy' while we're in school."

"It's a pleasure to see you here, Professor Malfoy," I say. "I'm sorry that I'm not a third year yet. Will you be remaining here to teach after this year?"

"Perhaps," Professor Malfoy says. "We'll see how this year goes."

"Father..." Draco begins.

"You should hurry along now, Draco," Malfoy says. "Your prefects are leading the first years off, and you wouldn't want to get lost on the way to Ravenclaw Tower, would you?" He gives a small smirk. "We can talk later, if you like. I'll be here all year, after all."

"Come on, Draco," Cassie says, tugging eagerly at his arm. "I want to see the tower!"

I laugh softly and follow after them, waving and saying, "See you later, Professor Malfoy."

We catch up to the remainder of the first year Ravenclaws and get shown up to the tower, our new home for the better part of the year. I haven't been in Ravenclaw Tower very often before, and I didn't stay long the few times I was here.

"When you want to come into the tower, the eagle knocker will ask you a riddle," a prefect is telling us. "You need to answer the riddle correctly before the door will open. If you don't know the answer, you'll have to wait for someone to come along who can answer it. So a word of warning to all you first years, be sure to have everything you need before leaving the tower."

"Oh, Merlin," I mutter. I'd forgotten about the riddles. "I'm so bad at riddles."

Cassie just laughs at me. "You'll get plenty of much-needed practice, then."

We head inside into the open, airy common room, brightly lit by wide arched windows. The place is decorated in shades of blue and bronze. Comfortable couches are arranged for sitting, and a low fire smolders in the fireplace. Tables and chairs are situated to do homework on, and bookshelves line the walls.

"Boys' dorms are to the right, and girls' to the left," the prefect says. "Remember that the girls' dorms are off-limits to boys."

Draco and I head up to the first year boys' dorm. I don't really know the three boys that are sharing our dorm very well. I vaguely remember Terry Boot from Dueling Club, but I only knew Michael Corner and Stephen Cornfoot by name. Not that it really matters now. That was another time, another life.

"Still nervous, Draco?" Terry asks.

Draco nods. "I didn't think my own father would be a teacher this year!"

"He didn't exactly sound upset to me," I say.

"He never does," Draco says. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. "Just... never mind. You guys better not mention this to anyone else."

"I don't think any of us care enough to bother..." Stephen says absently, yawning and flopping down in his bed. Michael looks like he's already asleep.

"Well, if you do, I swear I'll hex you!" Draco says.

"Relax, Draco," I say.

"Nobody's going to go starting rumors about you or anything," Terry says.

"Go to bed already," Stephen grumbles.

* * *

At breakfast the next morning, Anthony Goldstein and Seamus Finnigan come up behind us. "Hey, look," Seamus says. "It's the little crybaby Ravenclaw."

"You're a disappointment to your father!" Anthony adds.

Draco's fists clench in rage. He whips out his wand and shouts, "_Furnunculus!_"

Pimples cover Anthony's face. Anthony screams and runs off. Seamus looks up at someone approaching and decides it's a good time to retreat as well.

"Hexing other students before you've even had a single class?" Professor Malfoy says, strolling up nonchalantly. "Five points from Ravenclaw."

"Sorry, father," Draco mutters sheepishly.

"That's _Professor Malfoy_."

"Yes, Professor Malfoy," Draco says, looking like he wants to turn invisible.

Once Professor Malfoy is out of earshot again, I glare about at the table around us. "Okay, so who is the gossip around here?"

"It wasn't me," Terry says.

"Does it really matter?" Stephen wonders.

Draco fixes his gaze on Michael Corner. "You! It was you, wasn't it?"

"Huh?" Michael says, freezing with his fork halfway to his mouth. "Oh, Merlin, no! I'm not _that_ stupid. It was probably one of the girls."

Cassie snorts. "I'll agree to that one. They were already tittering amongst themselves before I went to sleep. Morag especially seems to take Ravenclaw's love of knowledge for a love of _gossip_."

"I hate my life," Draco mutters. "I should've just gone to Slytherin."

It really bothers me to see Draco like this. Usually, he's the one kicking _me_ out of a funk. Perhaps it's time that I return the favor.

"Don't let it get you down, Draco," I say. "I'm with you all the way."

"Me, too," Cassie says.

"And me," Terry adds, to my surprise.

"I'm going to keep my mouth shut for fear of getting hexed," Michael mutters.

"Are you guys actually going to _eat_ or just talk?" Stephen wonders.

"Don't make me hex you," I say, smirking at Stephen.

Before classes begin, I head up to speak with Dumbledore at the staff table.

"Can I have a word, Headmaster?" I say quietly.

"Of course, Harry," Dumbledore says, leading me off into a side room to speak in private. "What do you need?"

"You didn't ask me about Lucius Malfoy," I say. "He'll be a perfectly fine teacher, but I thought we agreed that you'd run them by me first."

"Ah, my apologies," Dumbledore says. "I had to fill the position on short notice-"

"No excuse," I snap.

"-and the Board of Governers insisted on including him in order to accept my curriculum changes," Dumbledore says.

I sigh. "You could have at least said something beforehand. The clever Disillusionment surprise was a bit much. Draco would have had a heart attack if he weren't eleven."

"Can I make it up to you in some way?" Dumbledore asks.

I think for a moment, then shake my head. "No. I'll let it slide this once, as thanks for helping deal with Cassie's situation. But let's not have this happen again, alright?"

"Very well," Dumbledore says.

"I want to be able to trust you, Dumbledore," I say. "If I can't trust you with something like this, how can I know I can count on you for something even more important?"


	6. One Quiet Year

**Chapter 6: One Quiet Year**

First year classes again. I decide to try practicing the spells wandlessly in hopes of actually getting some use out of the classes. Silent would be nice, too, but I'm less concerned about that. I just don't want to have to rely on a wand so much.

And then there's Potions. A class I was always rubbish with. This is a good opportunity to get better at that. I had underestimated its usefulness before, but now I realize that it's a _very_ useful subject to know.

"Ah, Potter, our new celebrity," Snape says. "Tell me, Potter, what would you get if I combined powdered asphodel root and an infusion of wormwood?"

Oh Merlin, this again. And I don't even remember. How embarrassing. "I don't know, sir."

"I see, Potter," Snape says. "Can you tell me what the difference is between wolfsbane and monkshood?"

"Oh, I know that one," I say. "They're the same plant, sir, also called aconite."

"And where can you find a bezoar?"

"In the stomach of a goat, sir," I reply. "It can be used to cure many poisons." I pull one out of my bag and hold it up in the air. "I have one right here, sir."

"Might I ask why you feel the need to carry a bezoar around with you?" Snape wonders.

"I've generally found it better to have one and not need it, than need it and not have it," I say.

"Well, at least you're not a _complete_ dunderhead," Snape admits reluctantly.

* * *

"Mr. Potter, Miss Black, are you having difficulties with the lesson?" McGonagall asks us.

"No, ma'am," I say. "I'm just trying do the transfiguration wandlessly."

"And I'm trying to do it in Sanskrit," Cassie says.

McGonagall stares at us for a long moment, and says, "Show me that you can do it _normally_, and I won't complain of what you spend the remainder of the period doing."

Cassie and I wave our wands at our matchsticks in the regular manner, easily transfiguring them into needles. McGonagall looks them over and gives a nod, and we transfigure them back into matchsticks again.

"Ravenclaws..." she mutters. "A point for each of you. Carry on."

It's probably just as well that Hermione isn't in our class. We're not even being especially subtle about how far ahead of the other students we are. Well, we try, but as soon as a teacher demands a demonstration, there's only so far we can fake incompetence.

The real highlight of the year is the Theatre Club. I even manage to drag Cassie and Draco in as well. It's not until we start practicing at it that I realize just how _bad_ I really am at acting.

"Harry," Gemma Farley says. "Your intonation is completely wrong. You're supposed to be depressed here. Try it again."

I try it again, with exaggerated depressiveness, but that doesn't impress Gemma either. "How am I supposed to sound depressed without overdoing it?"

"Put yourself into your role," Gemma says. "Become your character. Act how they would act. Hmm, maybe we should do some improvization as practice. Harry! You're a grumpy merchant. Cassie! You're an unreasonable customer. Begin."

"I require three barrels of newt's eyes," Cassie says. "And I need them by Tuesday!"

"Uh... I don't have that many newt's eyes in stock," I say hurriedly, looking around nervously, panicky.

"And they must be freshly pickled," Cassie says. "Nothing that's been laying around."

"I... um... crap," I mutter.

"Come on, Harry," Gemma says. "And relax. How would your character respond to her demands?"

"Er..." I say. "I'm going to charge you extra for that!"

"Better, better," Gemma says.

* * *

Things are going well enough at school. I'm not sure what's going on between Draco and his father, but I'm quite convinced that it's not as bad as Draco makes it out to be. One day, I decide to go see Professor Malfoy.

"Do you need something, Mr. Potter?" Malfoy asks.

"Er," I say. "I just wanted to know, are you actually upset at Draco? He's my friend, and all, and I'm concerned about him..."

"I don't see how it's any business of yours, Mr. Potter," Malfoy says.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I don't mean to intrude. I just wanted to reassure him..."

"If my son wants reassurances, he can come and speak with me himself," Malfoy says.

"He hasn't, sir?" I ask.

"I have not spoken with him since the Opening Feast," Malfoy says.

I sigh and put my face in my palm. "He's being stupidly stubborn, isn't he."

I meet up with Draco later and prod him into visiting his father sometime. He doesn't mention whether he does or not, but after that, he's more relaxed and back to his usual snarky self again. We don't speak of it again.

The only shadow remaining on it all is that there's still no sign of that damned diary. I have Rispy and Dobby hunting for it as much as they can. I have been too embarrassed about my mistake to tell Dumbledore, however. I'll acknowledge that I'm being a hypocrite, perhaps. I'll take responsibility for whatever mess comes of my failure.

Halloween comes and goes without any attacks by trolls, basilisks, or anything else. It's quiet. Too quiet.

"Harry, did you hear the news?" Cassie says to me grimly at breakfast on November 1st. "Peter Pettigrew escaped from Azkaban."

"I didn't realize they'd even put him in Azkaban," I say. "Well, that's good."

"Good?" Draco says, raising an eyebrow. "Wasn't he the one who betrayed your parents? Why would that be good?"

"Oh, I was just worried about something horrible happening on Halloween," I say. "Now that I've learned what bad thing happened on Halloween, I can relax again. It's not that it's so much _good_, as that I doubt anything worse managed to happen on Halloween."

"You're weird, you know that?" Draco comments.

"But really now," I say. "What were they thinking, putting him in Azkaban? He's a rat Animagus, and they know this! That place couldn't hold him for five minutes longer than he wanted to stay there."

"I'm sure they made every reasonable precaution..." Terry says.

I snort softly. "They have Dementors guarding the prison. Creatures who are worse than the prisoners they are guarding." I shake my head. "Just... never mind."

One of these days, I'm going to tear down Azkaban so that no one ever need be imprisoned in such an abyssal pit again. But that won't be today.

* * *

Classes are going well enough. I'm starting to get the hang of casting some basic spells, generally curses, wandlessly. I'm getting a bit better at theatre, too. Well, except when I accidentally hang myself to death trying to play Judas in "The Passion of the Christ" for the Christmas play. But let's not talk about that.

I spend Christmas at Caer Danas. The ground outside the castle is blanketed with snow, and Cassie romps around like a child, making snow angels, snowmen, building a snow fort, and bombarding everyone else with snowballs. And Sirius joins right in.

"Come on!" Sirius says. "Play!" He chucks a snowball at me, which narrowly misses my face.

"Don't want to," I say. "I'm going inside to read."

"You're no fun sometimes," Cassie says. "You've got your whole life to read."

"Why _are_ you in Ravenclaw, again?" I wonder.

"... Because I spent my whole life reading," Cassie says, looking down.

I sigh. "Well, alright. I suppose I can play for a bit..."

* * *

Second term passes by. There's a few spectacular pranks, courtesy of the twins. They haven't figured out the potion I gave them yet, though. I'm doing pretty good with wandless magic, with some pointers from Cassie. I still need to make the movements with my fingers and speak the words aloud, but I'm able to do all of the first year jinxes and hexes, and most of the charms and transfigurations, without a wand now.

Easter passes, with still no sign of the diary. Wherever it has ended up, it's clearly not in the hands of anyone at Hogwarts. I grow increasingly worried by the _lack_ of anything happening.

By the time exams are upon us, I can hardly sleep for worry. Even the otherwise peaceful atmosphere of the school year can't keep me calm.

"What are you so uptight about?" Draco asks. "You can't possibly be worried about exams, the way you're doing."

"It's nothing," I say, shaking my head and looking away.

"You're bad at lying, you know," Draco says.

I sigh. I can't help but think of the memory of Draco, laying on the ground in the Chamber of Secrets, dying, and it was all my fault. But that was another life. That's not going to happen this time. Not if I have anything to say about it.

And if that weren't bad enough, Quirrell disappeared sometime around Easter, as well. Dumbledore had been trying to keep an eye on him, having people tracking his movements, but now he's dropped off the map.

I hate keeping secrets from Draco. But I've long since gotten used to not being able to tell everyone everything. And if I told him this, I would have to admit that I stole from his father, and the only reasonable explanation for that would be to tell him that I'm a time traveler.

At the start of the year, I'd been intending on letting all my friends in on the secret. Tell them all about how I was from the future, and everything. But things didn't work out that way, and I kept putting it off, and it seems like it would be silly to confess it now.

"I just don't want to talk about it, alright?" I say.

Draco snorts. "You don't want to talk about it? Then fine, don't talk about it. But the way you're moping around makes it pretty obvious that something is wrong."

I sigh. "I know."

"And if something is really bothering you so much, then _do_ something about it," Draco says. "You're not going to get anything done by moping."

"I've been trying," I say. "It's no use."

"Obviously not trying hard enough, then," Draco says. "Or trying the wrong thing. If it's not working, try something else!"

"You're probably right," I admit, shrugging. "_Muffliato_," I mutter to make sure our conversation isn't overheard. We're alone in the dorm room, but I'm paranoid. You never know where Morag might be lurking. "Draco, tell me. What would you think if you suspected the Dark Lord might return soon?"

"Is that what you're so worried about?" Draco says. "I'd think it would be a good thing, wouldn't it? Oh, well, aside from that he might come after _you_... that'd be bad."

"Yeah," I say, smirking. "That would be bad."

"But why would you even think that he's likely to come back anytime soon?" Draco wonders. "There's been no sign of him even being alive in over ten years."

"Because..." I say, quickly trying to think up an excuse. "My scar hurts!"

"Your scar hurts," Draco says flatly, looking at me. "Seriously?"

"It's clearly a sign that there's still a lingering connection between us somehow," I say.

"Harry, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Draco says. "Besides, I've never seen you wincing or clutching at your forehead."

I make an exaggerated expression of pain and put my hand to my scar. "Oh, the pain!"

Draco snickers. "Save it for the stage, Hamlet." He leaves the room.

He's probably right about one thing, though. I've clearly been going about this the wrong way. But I'm paranoid about many people knowing that the diary even exists, never mind to be keeping an eye out for it. I don't know who I can really trust.

I should just focus on exams. It's not like they're going to be all that hard or anything, but worrying is getting me nowhere. I just wish I could count on Voldemort to leave me alone. I really don't want to have to fight a Dark Lord right now.

* * *

The year comes to a close. I manage to not completely fail at theatre. I get top marks in all of my exams, even Potions. Well, I'd be really embarrassed if I were so bad at it that couldn't even manage to do _first year_ potions, and I've been making an effort to improve at it this year.

And no one even found out that Remus is a werewolf. So I diligently reminded him every month and once actually _did_ follow through on my threat of force-feeding him Wolfsbane Potion, but at least there have been no unfortunate accidents.

Then, at breakfast on the day after exams are finished, an owl flies in to the Gryffindor table. This wouldn't be particularly remarkable but for the havoc that follows. Ron runs off toward the restroom, the twins stomp up to their dorm, and Percy is left trying to quiet down the Gryffindor table.

"What's going on with the Weasleys, I wonder?" I mutter.

"Do you really care?" Draco says.

"For once, I'm with Draco," Stephen adds, yawning.

I get to my feet. "I'm going to go find Ron."

"Why?" Draco wonders absently.

"Morbid curiosity," I say. "I'll decide whether to comfort him or to mock him when I find out what's going on."

"In that case, I'm with you," Draco says.

"Me, too," Cassie adds.

"I suppose I'll tag along, too," Terry says.

"Have fun with that," Michael says.

"Good," Stephen says. "Leave me alone and let me eat in peace."

We follow along in the direction Ron went. When we finally track him down, he's not in the boys' restroom, but the girls' restroom. The one on the first floor, with Moaning Myrtle and the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

"Why in Merlin's name are you hiding out in a girls' restroom, Weasley?" Draco wonders.

"Go to hell, Malfoy," Ron snaps. He looks like he's been crying. And puking. "Did you just come to make fun of me? I'm sure you'd think it's great, wouldn't you?"

"That entirely depends on what you're talking about," I comment. "As it is, we have no idea what you're going on about."

"My sister is _dead_, you bastards!" Ron cries.

We stare at him speechlessly for several long seconds. Finally, I utter, "Fuck."

"Oh, Merlin, Ron," Terry says. "I'm sorry."

"What happened?" Cassie wonders.

"I'd better not hear _one word_ from Malfoy about this," Ron says, shaking his finger at Draco. "We don't even know what happened!"

"How do you know she's dead, then?" Draco asks.

"Because... because... we have a clock in our home, with hands that point to where everyone in the family is..." Ron says. "Ginny disappeared, and her hand pointed to 'Mortal Peril' for about a day. And then... it disappeared. She's dead... my little sister is dead..."

"Mortal peril?" Terry says.

"They thought she'd been kidnapped," Ron says. "Mum and dad went spare trying to find her. But they couldn't find her anywhere. And now she's dead!"

"I'm sorry," I say, putting out my hand to steady myself and inadvertently falling straight through Myrtle. I shudder at the icy chill of passing through the ghost.

"Hey, watch it," Myrtle says, floating out of the way.

"Sorry," I mutter, standing and straightening myself out.

"My condolences for your loss," Cassie says quietly.

My mind is reeling. Could I have left the diary at the Burrow by mistake? Might Ginny have found it, written in it, got taken in by Tom Riddle? If that's true, then I as good as killed her myself. I murdered Ginny. I don't know that that's what happened, but I don't see anything else I've changed that might have led to Ginny's death like this. It's my fault. It's all my fault.

"It's all my fault..." I whisper.

"How old was she?" Terry is saying, but I'm barely paying attention now.

"My fault... my fault... I as good as killed her..." I murmur.

"Ten," Ron says, rubbing his eyes. "She would have been eleven this year. She would have gone to Hogwarts..."

"I killed her... I killed her... I killed her," I mutter.

"What did you say?" Ron says, looking sharply toward me.

I slump back against the wall, trembling. My face is wet. I feel sick. "I killed her..."

Ron's wand is suddenly at my throat. "What are you talking about, Potter? What did you _do_?"

My friends are looking at me in surprise as well. I can't blame them. It's too late to fix this now, though. She's already dead. She was probably already dead before I woke up this morning. For all of my knowledge of the future, I can't know everything, I can't predict everything, I can't do everything. And that's what bothers me the most.

"Fuck everything," I say. "It's my fault! It was my fault! It was all a mistake, a terrible mistake! I screwed up! I thought... I thought... I thought I could do something good. I thought I could stop anything bad from happening. Fuck!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry," Draco says. "I don't care how good you are with magic, there's no way you can prevent _anything_ bad from ever happening. That's just..."

"Conceited?" Cassie supplies helpfully.

"Yeah," Draco agrees.

"How is this your fault?" Ron says. "_What did you do to my sister?_"

"The diary!" I say.

"A diary?" Terry says.

"What diary?" Ron says.

"A _diary_ killed Ron's sister?" Draco says incredulously.

"The diary, the one I was looking for last summer," I say. "I sent you an owl asking if you'd seen it."

"You totally didn't," Ron says. "I remember Ginny had a diary, but..."

I shuffle around in my bag and, after a minute of looking, pull out a parchment. "You sent me this message!"

Ron snatches it out of my hands and peers at it. His face goes pale. "That's... that's Ginny's handwriting!"

"Ginny swiped your post?" Terry says.

"Fuck," I mutter.

"I'll second that," Ron says. "Mum might _Scourgify_ my mouth for saying so, but... fuck! What is this diary? How did Ginny get her hands on it?"

"It belonged to the Dark Lord," I say. "I was looking for a way to destroy it. But I didn't want to carry it around, because I was afraid it would possess me or something."

"Why didn't you just leave it someplace safe, then?" Draco asks.

"Because I'm an idiot, obviously," I say, sighing. "A paranoid idiot that obviously wasn't paranoid enough."

"So you're telling me, You-Know-Who's diary killed my sister," Ron says in a wavering voice.

"Why did the Dark Lord have a _diary_, anyway?" Draco sneers. "I mean, he could have at least called it a journal or something less embarrassing."

"Not now, Draco," I say, sighing. "Alright, Ron, listen. This is very important. I need to know _exactly_ when Ginny died."

"Why?" Ron says. "You've already killed my baby sister! Haven't you done enough?"

"I might still be able to save her," I say.

"How?" Ron demands.

"I can go back in time, alright, damn it!" I snap.

"What?" Ron says dumbly.

"He means he has a Time-Turner," Cassie says.

Ron blinks. "I... I don't know. Percy might. He was the one who got the letter. Look... I don't trust you. But if you might be able to save my sister... I'll help you."

"Good luck," Myrtle says quietly as we leave the restroom.

Ron hardly seems like he dares to hope, but at least he's stopped crying, screaming, and threatening me. No matter how much I deserve it for being an idiot.

"Percy!" Ron says, rushing up to the Gryffindor table.

"What now, Ron?" Percy says a little wearily.

"_Muffliato_," I mutter. "What time did she die, Percy?"

"Huh?" Percy says.

"I need to know," I say. "I might still be able to save her, but I _need_ to know what time she died."

"I don't know what you might be thinking of, but..." Percy pulls out the letter from his pocket and hands it over to me. I read over it quickly. She went missing yesterday, apparently, and the hand on the clock didn't disappear until this morning. After sunrise. There might still be a chance.

I return it to him. "Thanks, Percy. I'll see what I can do... I'm going to go back in time to try to save her now."

I'd told myself I wouldn't commit suicide just to try to save one person before. That always ended in disaster. But this is different. This isn't just about Ginny. It's about Tom Riddle. I just wish I could go back to yesterday, the day before, a year ago. Damn it all. How did I screw this all up so badly? My plans were perfect. And I made a mistake.

I go off quietly into an empty classroom, managing to lose the others in the process, but Cassie follows along after me.

"Alright, I know about your ability and all, but what are you going to do now?" Cassie says. "Commit suicide?"

I nod. "I have to try."

"Is this just about Ginny?" Cassie asks. "What, did you like her in another life or something?"

"No," I say. "I barely knew her." I snort softly in amusement. "The most interaction we had was her kicking my ass in Dueling Club."

"So, why?" Cassie asks.

"The Dark Lord," I say. "I've got to try to stop him. Otherwise... things could get really bad, and this one quiet year will be the last one we may have."

Cassie nods. "And what will that mean for us?"

"That means... you'll still be here, and I'll be dead," I say. "Take my stuff, alright?"

Cassie snorts softly. "And you can't take me with you or anything?"

"I don't know," I say. "If I can, I don't know how. And now isn't the time to experiment."

"If you say so," Cassie says. "Do you need help with that, then, or can you off yourself on your own?"

"It's alright," I say. "I can do it. Goodbye, Cassie."

"Good luck, Harry."

I smile sadly at her, and will my Time Magic to make me younger, younger, until I vanish from existence.

* * *

I wake in the Ravenclaw dorm. I don't have any time to lose. I suddenly realize that even if I only have minutes to spare, I don't even know where Ginny is. She went missing, after all. I'm an idiot. I really should have figured that out first. How do I hope to find Ginny when skilled, adult wizards couldn't do it?

I rush downstairs in my lightning bolt pajamas. Cassie is sitting in the common room, reading a book quietly. "Cassie," I hiss. "_Muffliato_. This is an emergency. No time to explain. Do you know any spells that can find a person?"

"Who are you looking for?" Cassie asks.

"Ginny Weasley," I say.

"I can," Cassie says. "But it's a dark spell, and I need a bit of them to do it. Blood preferably, but hair will do failing that."

"Alright," I say. "I'll see what I can do." I go over to the fireplace and toss in a bit of Floo powder, and say, "The Burrow!"

Molly looks up at me in surprise. "Harry? What are you doing here?"

"Trying to find Ginny," I say, going for the stairs and heading up to her room. "I need something of hers to try to locate her."

"How did you even know she's missing?" Molly asks, following after me.

"Time travel," I say. There's a pink hairbrush. Strange, Ginny never really struck me as the _pink_ sort of girl. I grab it and hurry back downstairs past Molly. "Sorry, don't have time for explanations. She'll be dead by breakfast if I don't hurry."

"Good luck..." Molly says dubiously. So many people have wished me luck today that I feel absolutely doomed.

"Hogwarts, Ravenclaw common room!" I say, stepping into the green flames and returning to the school.

I go over to Cassie and hand her the hairbrush. She just nods and gestures at me to follow, and goes out of the common room. We hurry along to a nearby classroom. I can feel every second ticking away, thinking this moment she'll be dead, this moment it will be too late. I cast protective spells over the room as Cassie prepares the ritual.

I'm extremely nervous, but even still, I watch what she's doing. She places strands of Ginny's hair in a bowl of water, and chants in a language I don't recognize. It's not Latin, that's for sure. She waves her wand over the bowl in complex movements, glowing runes appearing in the air for a moment.

"I've got it," Cassie says, letting out a deep breath and slumping over.

"Where is she?" I ask.

"A house somewhere, not sure," Cassie says. "I've got a clear image, though. I can Apparate us there."

We hurry back up to Ravenclaw Tower. The eagle knocker demands the answer to the riddle, "It cannot be seen, cannot be felt, Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt. It lies behind stars and under hills, And empty holes it fills. It comes first and follows after, Ends life, kills laughter."

"Ugh, damned riddles," I say, sighing. "I don't have time for this, damn it. Let me inside! I need to stop the Dark Lord!"

"Correct, the answer was 'dark'," the knocker says, and the door opens.

"And you say your luck is bad?" Cassie says wryly.

We step back through the Floo to the Burrow again. Molly isn't in the room this time, so Cassie just Side-Along Apparates me from there to the location she scried.

It's a large house, and would probably be fairly nice, although it looks rather run-down, like no one has actually lived here in years. Ten-year-old Ginny lays on the floor. Not breathing. Tom Riddle stands above her, looking very much solid and corporeal.

"You're too late," Tom says. "Although I do wonder how you knew where I was... And what's this? First years in pajamas come to stop me?"

"Fuck," I mutter, rushing up to Ginny's side. No breath. No heartbeat. She's dead.

"Such a mouth on you, boy," Tom says.

"Cassie," I say. "Go. _Now_."

Cassie looks at me for a moment, then decides not to argue, and vanishes. I breathe a sigh of relief. Bad enough that I came too late to save Ginny. I don't need to get Cassie killed as well. I straighten and look at Tom. He has a wand pointed at me.

"How noble of you," Tom says. "Now, who are you?"

"Harry Potter," I reply. "Where am I?"

"Harry Potter, hmm?" Tom says. "The one who apparently brought about my downfall walks so willingly into my clutches? Oh, I know all about you. This fool girl would not keep quiet about you. Well, since you asked, you are in Riddle Manor in the village of Little Hangleton."

"I see," I say.

"Now, why don't you answer some questions for me, instead?" Tom says. "Who was that with you? A first year that knows how to Apparate?"

"Cassiopeia Black," I say. "She's quite precocious."

"And did you really think you could stop me?" Tom says. "Did you think you could save the girl? I am Lord Voldemort! And you come foolishly rushing in like some reckless Gryffindor."

"I'm a Ravenclaw, actually," I say.

"And why did you have Miss Black leave you here alone?" Tom asks.

"Because you're going to kill me," I say. "And there's no reason for her to die, too."

"You seem awfully calm for someone facing your death," Tom says. "What aren't you telling me?"

"What do you mean?" I say, getting nervous.

"This is some sort of trick, isn't it," Tom says. "No, I don't think I'm going to kill you. _Stupefy!_"

Only my reflexes save me, and I tumble out of the way. Alright, I need to go _now_. I will myself to get younger, force my body to grow smaller until I'm gone.

* * *

I wake in the Ravenclaw boys' dorm. Damn it all, I need to be faster. I grab my bag and rush downstairs to where Cassie is reading.

"_Muffliato_," I mutter. "Cassie, do you know where Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton is?"

"No... Is that near Greater Hangleton?" Cassie asks.

"Maybe," I say. "I need to get there _now_."

Cassie nods. We step through the Floo to the Burrow, but don't even bother answering Molly's surprised questions. Cassie Side-Along Apparates me to an alley in an unfamiliar town.

"You'll have to fly from here," Cassie says, waving her wand to cast a few more spells. "You did bring a broom, didn't you?"

I pull one out of my bag. Not a very _good_ broom, as I hate flying, but I'm paranoid enough to want to keep one around. "You think I actually paid attention to the rule against first years having brooms?"

"Alright, good luck," Cassie says. "The Muggles won't see you now at least."

"Thanks," I say.

I kick into the air and start scanning the area for anything that might be the house I'm looking for. There's a graveyard, which brings to mind a shudder, remembering the resurrection ritual at the end of fourth year. Could it be the same graveyard? And there's a house nearby, that might just be the right house. I fly down to check it out.

I put my broom in my bag and pull out my wand before stepping inside. Sure enough, inside the house there's Ginny's body with Tom Riddle standing over it.

"You're too late," Tom says. "The girl's life belongs to me, now. Although of all the people I might have thought would try to rescue her, a first-year in pajamas was not high on the list."

I check. I have to. But Ginny is dead. Lost. Gone. Too slow. Too late.

"Tom Riddle," I say. "Or should I say Lord Voldemort?"

"So you do know who I am," Tom says, looking over me appraisingly as he holds his wand at me. "And who might you be? Hmm, perhaps you are the one the foolish girl described to me... Harry Potter?"

"That's me," I say. I'm quite a bit less calm than I was before. I need to find some way to resolve this situation, even if it means that Ginny has to die.

"I find it hard to believe that a mere baby could somehow defeat me," Tom says.

"So do I," I say. "Obviously, my mother did something. Because I certainly didn't."

"How did you even know where to find me?" Tom asks.

"Well, let's see," I say. "You're Tom Riddle. This is Riddle Manor."

"I suppose there is that," Tom concedes. "Now, do you care to plead for your life, Harry Potter?"

"Can we discuss this?" I say.

"What's there to discuss?" Tom asks.

"Why do you want to kill me?" I ask. "Is it just because of that stupid prophecy? Prophecies are bullshit, you know. The future isn't fixed."

"Oh?" Tom says. "And what do you know of the prophecy?"

"I don't even _remember_ the whole thing," I say. "It was overblown nonsense, anyway. And if there was any truth in it to begin with, the thing got fulfilled when you tried to kill me as a baby."

"But you do know the full prophecy?" Tom says. I feel a thrust of Legilimency against my mental barriers.

"I know a lot of things I'm not going to tell you," I say.

"We'll see about that," Tom says. "_Stupefy!_"

He almost catches me by surprise this time. I try to dodge. Too slow. The spell clips me, and the world goes out.


	7. Dark Return

**Chapter 7: Dark Return**

I wake. I don't know where I am, but I'm tied up and I'm not sure where my wand is.

"So, do you care to answer my questions now?"

Tom Riddle.

Oh, _fuck_. I think I've already told him too much, expecting to die again, and then got stunned like an idiot. I really should have realized he might try that after the previous time. And now I can't even escape in death.

"No?" Tom says. "How about some encouragement? _Crucio!_"

White-hot knives piercing every part of my body. I'm screaming. Agony. Make it stop... Make it stop... I reflexively age myself down to force it to stop, and wink out of existence.

* * *

I wake, tied up, probably in Riddle Manor. Oh, that was perfectly useless.

"Now, do you want to answer my questions?" Tom asks me.

"_Alohomora_," I whisper, hoping that it works on untying ropes. No such luck, though. "_Diffindo._" This one slices open the ropes holding me.

"_Mimble Wimble,_" Tom says. "So, you can do wandless magic already, but can you do it silently? Oh, and I'm only stopping you from casting spells, so do feel free to answer my questions. But I think you need a little discouragement from trying to escape. _Crucio!_"

Horrible pain rips through my body again. Screaming. Damn it, I need to endure it. I can't just go and kill myself to escape. That's no escape. But it hurts. Hurts so much. So much pain. Torment... I find myself de-aging myself again anyway. A brief respite from pain.

* * *

I wake with a gasp. Damn it! I need to stop doing that. That won't help me get out of here. All that's going to do is make me lose all of my magical energy uselessly.

"Going to answer my questions now, Harry Potter?" Tom asks.

I can do this if I'm quick enough. "_Diffindo_," I say, cutting the rope. "_Fulgoris!_" Lightning springs from my fingertips and strikes Tom head on.

"_Protego_," Tom mutters, and a shield springs up in front of him. "_Mimble Wimble_. Enough of that. A wandless Lightning Curse?"

Note to self: Learn silent casting, too. Argh. "Going to torture me now?" I say, sighing.

"If that's what's necessary to get you to answer me," Tom says. "_Crucio!_"

I double over in pain, curling up in a fetal position. I can't keep trying to escape this agony through death. There's no escape that way. No escape. It's hopeless. I'm helpless. So very helpless.

The torment fades after some while. I managed to avoid compulsively slipping away that time. But oh, Shazmar, it hurts. It still aches even after he deactivated the curse.

"Willing to talk now?" Tom asks.

"Just... don't do that... please..." I rasp. "I'd say I have no choice. But there are always choices. I mean, I could choose to keep getting tortured until I turn into a vegetable. But I have no desire to do that."

Not when I have a chance to get out of this unscathed, one way or another. If he doesn't believe lies, I can always resort to the truth, after all. I have plenty of options. I just don't really like any of them at the moment.

"Tell me about the prophecy," Tom asks.

"I don't know anymore than I already told you," I say. "Stop being so hung up on it. It doesn't matter, anyway."

"_Crucio!_" Tom snaps. Agony rips through my body again for a few seconds. "Do not be so disrespectful toward me. I am the Dark Lord."

"Sorry, sir," I mutter. "I meant no disrespect. I was merely giving honest advice. The prophecy _doesn't matter_."

"Are you trying to tell me that I _died_ for something that _doesn't matter_?" Tom says.

"For all I know, Dumbledore tricked you into going after the Potters in the first place," I say. "I couldn't say. Would he have sacrificed everyone for the chance to finally take you down? I don't know. Maybe."

Tom stares at me for a long moment. "Fine. Let's never mind the prophecy, then. Why did you come here?"

"I thought I might be able to get here in time to save Ginny," I say.

"And how did you know about this house?" Tom asks.

"Dumbledore told me," I lie.

"And he let you come here in your pajamas rather than come to face me himself?" Tom says.

"I wouldn't say 'let me'," I say with a smirk. "He doesn't even know I'm here, after all."

"Does anyone know you're here?" Tom asks.

"Cassiopeia Black," I reply. "But I'm sure she'll happily leave me to die, anyway."

"She's still alive?" Tom says.

"No, no," I say. "Sirius Black's daughter, not his great-aunt."

"Sirius Black has a daughter?" Tom says.

"Yeah," I say. "She's in Ravenclaw with me."

"You're a Ravenclaw?" Tom says. "I would have expected you to be a Gryffindor. Especially with a reckless stunt like coming after me alone."

"Yeah, alright, this _was_ pretty stupid," I say, sighing. "So, what'll it take for you to let me go?"

"Let you go?" Tom says. "Now why would I do a thing like that? I'm going to get all the answers I want out of you, and then kill you."

"Because that doesn't really make me feel very enthusiastic about answering your questions," I comment.

"_Crucio!_"

I'm screaming myself hoarse in agony. Like lava in my veins. Like lightning. By the time it finally stops, I'm left panting, twitching, trembling.

"Feeling more enthusiastic now?" Tom says.

"Fuck me sideways..." I mutter.

"Sorry, I'm not a pedophile," Tom says.

I snort softly, amused despite myself. "Alright, look. I'll tell you whatever you want." Or at least a plausible lie. "Just please, no more Crucios, alright? Please?"

"Begging for mercy," Tom says. "It's a start."

Suddenly, the door bursts open, and there stands Molly and Arthur Weasley, with Cassie Black behind them, all wands trained on Tom Riddle.

"You murdered our daughter, you bastard!" Molly exclaims.

"Ah, time to go," Tom says. He gives me a wave and vanishes with a soft pop, even as Arthur tries to grab onto him.

I breathe a sigh of relief. "You guys are a sight for sore eyes."

"I'll admit that I'm a little surprised to see you alive after that," Cassie says.

"Harry, are you alright?" Molly says, coming up to me.

Her daughter's corpse is lying in the next room, and she still cares enough to check on my well-being. I love Molly Weasley sometimes.

"I'm alright," I say. "How did you find me?"

"Cassie told us where you'd gone," Molly says. "I... I appreciate what you were trying to do, but how could you try to do this by yourself?"

"What did he do to you?" Arthur asks, waving his wand over me. I feel a slight tingling.

"Not much," I say with a snort. "A Stunning Spell, a Tongue-Tying Jinx, and maybe half a dozen Crucios."

"Oh, Merlin," Molly breathes. "We should get you to St. Mungo's right away."

"I'm _fine_," I insist. "Where's my wand..." I start looking around the room for where he might have put it, seriously hoping that he didn't take it with him.

"Harry, you can hardly stand," Arthur says.

"Come on, Harry," Molly says. "I'll get you to St. Mungo's. Arthur, can you take Cassie back to Hogwarts?"

"I need my wand!" I say.

"_Accio_ Harry's wand," Arthur says. Nothing happens. He shakes his head.

"Fu...dge," I say. Molly gives me a look. "Cornelius."

I really would rather not go to St. Mungo's, but the way I'm still shaking, sore all over, and very weak makes me rethink the assessment that I'm fine. I sigh and allow Molly to take me off to the hospital.

They lay me down in a bed and start doing diagnostic spells and giving me potions. I close my eyes and let out a sigh. I'm just happy to be alive and free. Everything has gone wrong, but at least I'm out of that situation. I never want to be a captive again.

After making sure that there is no serious damage, they transfer me to the hospital wing in Hogwarts to rest. I won't complain about a bit of rest, even if the hospital wing isn't the place I'd prefer to do so. I let myself drift off for a bit of a nap.

* * *

When I wake, I see Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley standing near my bed. I have to blink for a moment and wonder how those two managed to stay in the same room long enough for me to wake up without hexing one another or something.

"Harry!" Draco says. "About time you woke up."

"Draco..." I say. "Ron?"

"I... I heard about what you tried to do," Ron says quietly. "I wanted to... to thank you for trying to save my sister, even if... even if..."

"I'm sorry," I say. "I wasn't fast enough."

"What in Merlin's name did you think you were trying to do, running off like that?" Draco says. "You could have been killed, or worse!"

"'Worse' would be applicable, yes," I say, wincing.

"What happened?" Ron asks. "They said you'd been hurt, but they didn't go into detail."

"I just got stunned, tied up, and then ate about five or six Crucios," I say.

"Oh, Merlin," Draco says. "No wonder they took you to the hospital."

"Who was it?" Ron asks. "Who did this to my baby sister?"

I purse my lips. "I think I'd best leave this discussion for Dumbledore," I say, noticing Dumbledore standing off behind them.

"And how did you even know-" Draco begins.

"Run along, boys," Dumbledore says, approaching. "I must speak with dear Harry in private now."

"Yes, sir," Draco grumbles, and leaves the hospital wing.

Dumbledore waves his wand. "You may speak freely now. Who was it that attacked Ginny Weasley?"

"It was Tom, sir," I say. "Tom Riddle is back, alive. He used Ginny's lifeforce to resurrect himself, I think."

Dumbledore's face takes on a grave expression. "I see."

"I failed, sir," I murmur. "This was all my fault. I screwed up. I made a mistake. And now..."

"I will call together the Order of the Phoenix," Dumbledore says. "We'll need to make use of our new headquarters."

I nod. "Of course, sir. I was hoping it wouldn't come to this... but I knew he would find a way back sooner or later. I just didn't expect it would be so soon. All of my tactics were just to try to delay him and hinder him. But now..." I sigh.

"Now he's back," Dumbledore says. "And Quirrell, Pettigrew, and Crouch are all missing."

"Merlin," I mutter. "This couldn't have worked out more in his favor if I'd planned it this way." I rub my head. "This is all my fault. I wouldn't blame you if you want to off me for being incompetent."

"I'm not going to kill you," Dumbledore says, frowning at me.

"Yeah, that would be too easy, I suppose," I say. "I made this mess. Now I have to live in it. I just worry that anything else I might try to do will only fuck things up even worse."

"We'll get through this," Dumbledore says. "I will gather the Order of the Phoenix over the summer, and we will prepare for the worst."

"A war has begun," I say. "And it's already claimed its first casualty. A ten-year-old girl." I sigh.

* * *

"Cassie..." I say, approaching her in the Ravenclaw common room the next morning.

"Harry?" Cassie says, glancing up from her book.

"What happened to bring the Weasleys there?" I wonder.

"They caught me by their fireplace, so I told them what was going on," Cassie says. "I wasn't sure if you really wanted the backup or if you had some plan that you wanted to enact yourself."

"No, no damned plan," I say, sighing. "Because I'm an idiot. I'm glad they came, otherwise I would have had a hell of a time getting out of there."

"You know I'd have gone along with you and helped if you'd asked," Cassie says.

"I know," I say. "I just didn't want to put anyone else in danger."

"How did you not wind up in Gryffindor?" Cassie says. "I'm not going to argue with the part about you being an idiot."

"How is Hermione Granger not in Ravenclaw?" I counter with a smirk.

"Point," Cassie says. "Who was that, anyway?"

"Tom Riddle," I reply.

"I think I've heard that name before," Cassie says. "Why did he want to kill Ginny?"

"Let's not discuss this here," I say, glancing about the room in paranoia. "Morag might be listening somewhere. I'll explain everything when we get home."

"Suit yourself," Cassie says, going back to reading.

I head down for breakfast. Ginny's sudden death is all over the school already. There's rumor that I was involved somehow. They aren't quite sure what to say. Some seem to think that I tried to save her. Others think that I killed her. Still others think I was kidnapped as well and only barely escaped myself.

After breakfast, I decide to go and see Snape, alone. He's in his office grading exams. "Potter," Professor Snape says.

"Can I speak with you for a bit?" I ask.

"Is this about your potions exam?" Snape asks.

I shake my head. "No. It's about what happened yesterday."

"I don't see how this involves me, but very well," Snape says. "Sit down, Potter."

I go over to take a seat across from his desk, and take a deep breath. Now that I'm here, I'm shaking a little. It suddenly strikes me just how terrified I am. If a boggart were to show up right now, I think it would probably have Tom Riddle's face.

"What is it, Potter?" Snape asks. "Do you require a Calming Draught?"

"No," I say. "Maybe." I rub my head and sigh. "Can you make sure nobody can eavesdrop, please?"

Snape looks at me for a moment, then waves his wand and mutters, "_Muffliato_. Speak."

"The Dark Lord is back," I say.

Snape freezes, and stares at me for a long moment. "Are you certain of this?"

"Absolutely," I say with a wavering voice. "He killed Ginny. He tortured me. Why? Did your Dark Mark not give any indication?"

"How-" Snape says, frowning at me. "Who told you?"

Right, I wasn't supposed to know that, was I. "Was the fact that you were a Death Eater really that much of a secret?" I ask. "But Dumbledore kept you out of Azkaban."

Snape pulls out a potion and passes it over to me. "Drink that."

I don't question him. I take the potion and drink it down. After a moment, my nerves relax and my body stops trembling. "Thanks," I murmur.

"Does Dumbledore know about this?" Snape asks.

"I told him first," I say. "He said he'll be calling together the Order of the Phoenix over the summer. But I thought you might like to know as soon as possible, given your circumstances."

Snape says, "What do you know of those circumstances? What has Dumbledore told you?"

I sigh. "Assume I know everything," I say. "I should tell you. I'm a time traveler. I've seen the future."

Snape stares at me. "You're from the future? And you're still barely adequate with first year potions?"

I snort in amusement. "I was always bad with potions. I'm better with magic that depends upon emotions. But I've been making an effort to improve. I was almost as bad as Neville, before."

"In that case, I am glad that you have made the effort," Snape says dryly. "One Longbottom disaster area is bad enough."

"Oh, I should also tell you, my house is being used as the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix," I say. "You should know that Sirius Black is staying there, too. And if he calls you Snivellus, I'll hex him myself."

Snape frowns at me. "Bad enough that Lupin is teaching here. Now I must spend my summer with them as well?"

"For the record, I think what they did in your sixth year was completely uncalled for," I say. "I'd make Sirius apologize, but you can't just say 'I'm sorry' to attempted murder. And my father claiming a life debt over saving you from a situation you shouldn't have been in to begin with if it weren't for his friends? It makes me sick."

Quiet anger flashes in Snape's eyes for a few moments, but then he looks at me appraisingly, perhaps noticing my own genuine anger over the thought. "Perhaps you aren't so much like your father as I had thought."

"I'm in _Ravenclaw_, aren't I?" I say. "I'd like nothing better than to be left alone to study in peace."

"Tell me," Snape says. "How did this happen? How did the Dark Lord return? And no, the Dark Mark does not appear to have shown any reaction yet."

"It was a diary," I say. "A diary with the memory of his sixteen-year-old self. He drained the life of Ginny Weasley in order to return himself to life. When I saw him, Ginny was already dead, and the Dark Lord was very much corporeal and capable of using magic."

"These are grave circumstances indeed," Snape says, scowling. "And you say you traveled back in time?"

I nod. "Several times. You can see what my attempts to improve things have worked out this time."

"So, this was all your fault, was it?"

"Yes," I say. "This was all because of my mistakes. Blame me, hate me, berate me, go ahead. I'm sick of listening to people tell me that I did my best and I can't be blamed for how things went wrong."

"Very well," Snape says. "You dunderhead, what have you done? Do you realize what you have done? This is an unmitigated disaster, and it's entirely your fault! Do you have any idea how many people may die now because of your actions? How do you expect to resolve this? Your plans are useless! I should give you detention every day for the remainder of your school life!"

I smile at him. "Much better. Thank you. There's a reason why you're my favorite teacher."

"What, not that mongrel, Lupin?" Snape says.

"Oh, hell no," I say. "He's a good teacher and all, but he's far too prone to angsting, and he's kind of an idiot sometimes."

"Sometimes?" Snape says.

"I had to force-feed him his potion last month," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Why is he even teaching, anyway?" Snape wonders.

"Because it could be worse," I say. "It could really, really be worse."

* * *

The night before the Leaving Feast, the Theatre Club is to give our performance of Hamlet. It's a somber event, in light of recent news. But I throw myself into my role in an attempt to distract me from things. I make for a very mopey and depressive Hamlet. I doubt anyone sees that as a problem. At least this time I manage to avoid any extreme method acting in my death.

"You did a great job as Hamlet," Draco tells me at the Leaving Feast. "Too good, in fact. Will you knock it off with the angsty crap already? If you won't even tell me what's wrong, you're not allowed to mope about it."

I snicker softly. "Alright, alright," I say.

I'm kind of glad to be heading home again. Sirius meets me and Cassie at Platform Nine and Three Quarters and Apparates me back to Caer Danas.

"I really need to learn how to Apparate," I comment, stepping out of the gazebo.

"Yes, you do," Cassie agrees.

"Teach me?" I ask.

"Apparation can be dangerous, you know," Remus says, standing on the back porch to greet us.

"I really don't care," I say. "What am I going to do, die?"

At my insistance, the three of them start tutoring me in Apparation in the gardens behind Caer Danas. It's much like using the Nexus, although without a solid beacon as a frame of reference, it's much more difficult. I only wind up dying a _couple_ times in the process.

By the end of July, the house has become a fair bit more crowded, as the Order of the Phoenix arrives. I recognize some of these people, but most of them are unfamiliar to me. I would feel a lot more comfortable with this many strangers in my home if I still had my wand.

"Professor Dumbledore, I think some introductions are in order?" I say, looking over the small crowd in my main hall.

"Ah, yes, of course, Harry," Dumbledore says. "Everyone, this is Harry Potter." He goes around the room pointing at each person in turn, and telling their name. I already know Sirius, Remus, and Snape, of course, and I recognize Mad-Eye Moody. New names to me are Dedalus Diggle, Mundungus Fletcher, Sturgis Podmore, Emmeline Vance, and Elphias Doge. "We also have some new members. I'd like to introduce Molly and Arthur Weasley, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Nymphadora Tonks."

"And don't forget us," Rispy adds.

"Yes, let's not forget Rispy and Dobby," Dumbledore says, gesturing to the two elves.

This is going to be a lot of new names to keep track of. Moody looks over at Cassie, who is standing off to the side of the room, like he's staring right into her soul, and says, "So, who's this girl?"

"She's Cassiopeia Black," I say. "She lives here."

"Should she really be involved in our meetings?" Emmeline Vance says.

"Will you turn away a potential ally?" Cassie says.

"This isn't a thing for children," Sturgis Podmore says. "What are you, eleven, twelve?"

"Professor Dumbledore," I say. "Do you trust these people completely? Can we speak freely here?"

"I would trust any of them with my life," Dumbledore says. "And I'll stake the future of the wizarding world on them."

"Very well," I say. "If I ever find out otherwise, I will be very... unhappy."

"You're here to be protected, Harry," Sturgis says. "You're not a full member, either. You're not of age yet."

"I'm twenty-three," I reply.

"What?" Emmeline says.

"I'm twenty-three years old," I repeat.

"And I'm seventy-seven," Cassie says. "And if either of our secrets leave this house, _I_ will follow through on Harry's implied threat."

"How?" Elphias asks, dumbfounded.

"I'm a time traveler," I say. "And Cassie got de-aged in a magical accident."

"Wait, does that mean that Cassiopeia Black is actually Cassiopeia Black?" Mundungus Fletcher says.

"Astute observation, Dung," Moody says, looking at Cassie warily. Well, that's indisputably the worst nickname I've ever run across, I think.

"I'd trust her with my life," I say, standing by Cassie.

"And now that I know what a reckless idiot you are sometimes, I might try saving that life of yours more frequently," Cassie adds.

"I really can't argue with that sentiment," I say wryly.

"So you're a time traveler?" Molly says. "Is that how you knew Ginny was in danger?"

I nod. "And I'm sorry that I could not get there fast enough."

"Just tell us who that young man was who murdered my baby girl," Molly says fiercely.

"That was Tom Riddle," I say. "Better known as the Dark Lord Voldemort."

Molly stares at me in shock. "Tom Riddle is You-Know-Who?"

"Harry, are you absolutely certain of that?" Arthur asks.

"If I'm not certain of something, I'll say 'I think' or 'Maybe'," I say firmly. "I'm not talking in maybes. I'm not giving speculation or conjecture. I _know_. I'll speculate by suggesting that he used Ginny's life to resurrect himself, as I'm not certain of that, but it seems a reasonable guess. But there is not a shadow of a doubt who is behind this."

"Oh, Merlin," Molly murmurs.

* * *

I take an opportunity to slip Snape one of my essence pods to analyze. The twins haven't had any luck with it so far, but Snape is far more experienced with potions than them, and with him on my side, maybe I'll get an answer.

In early August, I catch Mundungus Fletcher trying to filch silverware from my house. "_What_ are you doing?" I ask.

"Oh, um..." Mundungus says, trying shoddily to hide his theft.

I put my face in my hands. "Look, Mundungus. If you're going to try to steal from me, at least do it _competently_. First off, you need to make sure that no one is looking first. And you never know when Dobby might be watching, so don't bother. And if it's _Rispy_ that's watching, he might just stab you in the eye for the trouble."

"Ah, thanks for the warning," Mundungus says.

"And why the silverware?" I say. "If you're going to steal, at least take things no one's going to miss immediately. I eat with that!"

"Sorry, Harry," Mundungus says. "Won't happen again."

"Do you actually need money that badly, or are you just a thief by profession?" I ask.

"Oh, yes, I'm very poor," Mundungus says.

"Right, you're a thief," I say, chuckling. "Do you do smuggling, too? Fencing? Dealing in illegal artifacts and substances? Like, say, Dream Sweets?"

I'm not going to get myself addicted to them again, I swear. But I've been having horrible nightmares ever since being held captive by Tom Riddle. Even just a single night's surcease seems so, so sweet.

Mundungus's eyes widen. "Oh, for you, I could probably get my hands on some. It would cost you, though..."

"I'm just curious," I say. "They're nice and all, but the crash is awful. Do you know anything like that that _doesn't_ have such serious side-effects?"

"Hmm, I could probably come up with something," Mundungus says.

I grin. "Thanks."

* * *

In mid-August, I'm helping out Snape with preparing some potions ingredients. He's been giving me some helpful pointers on improving my potions skill while reducing the number of unfortunate accidents in class.

Suddenly, Snape drops a silver bowl with a clatter, spilling locust cocoons all over the floor, and grabs his forearm with a hiss.

"Sir?" I say, looking up from my chopping. "Are you alright?" I frown. "Is it the Dark Mark?"

Snape nods. "He's not calling. It just flared to life again."

"What does this mean?" I ask.

"Considering the circumstances of his return, I do not know," Snape says. "Nothing good, I would imagine. One thing is certain, however. He is definitely fully back now."


	8. Latent Image

**Chapter 8: Latent Image**

"I've brought something for you to try out," Mundungus says, grinning at me. He puts a small vial down on the table in front of me. "It's called Luxuriant Simulacrum Draught."

"What does it do?" I ask.

"It'll make you feel really good for a few hours," Mundungus says. "Make you see all kinds of wonderful things. And it's not at all addictive like Dream Sweets."

"What's the catch?" I wonder.

"Catch?" Mundungus says.

"You don't need to try to hide any downsides, Mundungus," I say, smirking. "I put myself into five years of withdrawal from Dream Sweets because I thought it was worth the price."

Mundungus winces. "No, nothing like that. This really _isn't_ addictive. It doesn't do anything when it wears off. Well, there's some lingering effects. You see, it causes hallucinations. Sometimes, um, corporeal ones."

"Corporeal hallucinations?" I repeat.

Mundungus nods. "Generally pleasant ones while the full effect is going. Now, it's the lingering effect you need to watch out for. Stray thoughts might cause outright dangerous ones."

"Right..." I say. "Alright, I'll try it out. How much do I owe you?"

"Ten galleons," Mundungus says.

I don't even argue at the price. I pull the money out of my bag and pass it over to him, then take the bottle and go to my room for some privacy. I'm so tired that the world only seems half real as it is. I wandlessly lock the door, and drink down the potion.

So sweet. The darkness recedes from my mind, to be replaced with bright, artificial colors. I'm still tired, but now my heart is racing. I'm so strung up that I couldn't possibly sleep now. Fairy dragons brush up against my skin, and I shiver at the sensation.

Hours later, as I drift off toward sleep, I have a waking dream of a man with glowing red eyes holding me possessively.

* * *

"You really ought to pick up another wand," Cassie says. "You're even more useless than usual in a fight without it."

I snort softly. "I don't really care. Encourage me to learn how to do without it faster."

On the Hogwarts Express, I spot Luna sitting alone in one of the compartments. I grin broadly at seeing her again, and drag Cassie in by the sleeve to sit with her.

"Hello, Stormseeker," Luna says, looking at me with a dreamy smile. "How is this universe treating you this time?"

"Harry, who is this?" Cassie says, looking at me in puzzlement.

"Cassie, this is Luna Lovegood," I say. "Luna, Cassiopeia Black."

Luna gives a long look toward Cassie. "Nice to meet you. How is your grand-nephew, Stubby Boardman?"

"Who?" Cassie wonders.

"Sirius Black," I say.

"What?" Cassie says. "How? Did you tell her?"

I grin broadly and shake my head. "Luna is... very perceptive. She sees things that most other people can't. But most people think she's crazy for it."

"Wrackspurts," Luna says. "So many people are infested with wrackspurts."

"Wrackspurts?" Cassie says in confusion.

"They flit inside your head and make it go all fuzzy," Luna says.

"I... see," Cassie says.

"Oh, you have one in you now," Luna says absently. She pulls out a butterbeer cork from her pocket and offers it to Cassie. "Here, try this."

"Huh?" Cassie says.

"To repel the wrackspurts," Luna says.

"Er, no thanks," Cassie says. "I think I'll just take my chances."

And so, second year begins with me stubbornly refusing to use any wand but my own. I hate it, though. I feel so weak and nearly helpless without my wand. At times like this, I might wish for the artificial augmentation of my power that I'd discovered in the last world I visited. But it was a mere physical change. It didn't carry on into the next life. Maybe someday, I'll figure out how to duplicate it. Preferably without the unfortunate side-effect of making me slightly insane. I'm still not convinced that _that_ didn't have lingering mental effects.

Professor Lupin teaches another year of Battle Magic, proving that this was apparently sufficient for bypassing the curse entirely. He might not be the best possible teacher, but at least he's sufficient that I wouldn't mind spending seven years with him. Well, it's not so much that he's a bad teacher or anything, just some of the baggage that he brings along. I am, however, in no way ever going to let on to him that he bit me in another life.

I watch the Sorting carefully again, curious to see if there will be any differences. But I remember even less of the year below mine than I do of my own. The few people I do remember go to the houses I remember them having been in. I smile at Luna as she comes over to sit at the Ravenclaw table with us.

When classes start up again, the teachers have been used to seeing me attempting my spells without a wand. However, the one that I would _really_ like to be able to get down wandlessly is _Muffliato_. I'm far too paranoid about eavesdroppers. I suppose that's understandable, especially considering that Morag MacDougal is my classmate.

* * *

Halloween arrives. I have to wonder just what horrible thing might happen this year, especially given that the Dark Lord is back. As I sit through the Halloween Feast, nervous and rankling, I find my eyes drifting toward the staff table. To Dumbledore, to Snape, and especially to Malfoy. But none of them seem to give any indication that something might be going on somewhere, or something horrible about to happen.

"Something wrong, Harry?" Cassie asks.

"Nothing in particular," I say. "It's just that it's Halloween."

"This was the night your parents died, wasn't it?" Draco asks.

I nod absently. That's not why I'm always so nervous, but I'm not going to argue.

I try to sleep that night, but I find myself tossing and turning uselessly. Well, if I'm not going to be able to sleep, I might as well enjoy it. I pull out one of the potions Mundungus got for me from my bag and drink it down.

I lay on my back in my bed, staring up at the images and colors swirling around me. So beautiful, so relaxing. Then, I feel something brushing up against my skin. Warmth, soft breath upon me.

I blink. Tom Riddle is sitting on the edge of my bed. No, he's not really here. This is just a hallucination. But why am I hallucinating about the Dark Lord? More importantly, why am I fantasizing about Tom Riddle touching me? I'll admit that I find him incredibly hot, and powerful, but I'm also scared to death of him.

"Why so scared?" Tom whispers, grinning at me. "This is what you really want, isn't it?"

My heart pounds. I restrain the urge to answer him aloud. He's not real. He's not really here. The other boys in my dorm would wonder who I'm talking to. But all I can think of is that I'm terrified of this young man sitting so casually before me. He's evil. He captured me. He tortured me. He hurt me.

"No?" Tom says. "So be it." He holds up a wand and points it at me. "_Crucio._"

I can't help but scream aloud at that. It feels like hot needles are piercing my skin all over my body. How can this just be a hallucination? This feels like the real Cruciatus Curse to me! After a few seconds, it stops, leaving Tom looking down at me smugly.

"Harry!" Draco says, coming up to my bed and ripping open the curtains.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Terry asks.

"He's just having a nightmare," Stephen says tiredly. "Put up a Silencing Charm and go back to bed."

"Is that all I am to you, Harry?" Tom says. "Nothing more than a nightmare?"

I've obviously spent too long as Harry Potter. Now even my hallucinations are calling me by that name.

"I'm disappointed in you," Tom says. "_Crucio._"

Screaming in agony. My vision fills with exploding stars. It's like I'm on fire from the inside out. When the pain fades again, Draco and Terry are hauling me downstairs. They're probably trying to get me to the hospital wing. Luna is in the common room.

"That won't help," Luna says.

"Do you know what's wrong with him, Luna?" Draco asks.

Luna cocks her head at me. "There's a simulacrum of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named following him."

"Merlin," Terry utters.

"So, you can see me, can you?" Tom addresses Luna.

"I can," Luna says.

"Fascinating," Tom says.

Alright, so Luna is so mental that she can _see other people's hallucinations_? That's really taking the cake.

"Please don't hurt him anymore," Luna says. "He's just scared."

"Luna..." I rasp.

"Calm down, Stormseeker," Luna says.

"I'm glad _somebody_ seems to have some clue what's going on here," Draco mutters.

"He's mine," Tom says. "And I will not allow anything to come between us. Not even his own fear."

"He would be less afraid if you didn't hurt him so much," Luna says.

"But he _wants_ to be hurt," Tom says.

"This is ridiculous," I mutter. "What do I look like, a fucking masochist?"

"No, this is clearly not what he wants," Luna says.

Tom snorts softly. "What do you know? You're talking to a simulacrum that is an embodiment of his own desires."

"I'm quite certain that I don't want to be Crucioed," I comment dryly.

"Like you would know," Tom says. "You refuse to even acknowledge your own desires."

"Whether that's true or not, I'm still quite sure that no matter what I might want does not include torture," I say.

"You do, however, want to be punished when you do something wrong," Tom says. "It quite upsets you when you are not. And you did wrong, in rejecting me. So I punished you."

"This is really weird," Draco says. "You're talking to... what? Harry, do you have some sort of connection to the Dark Lord after all?"

I ignore him, staring firmly into Tom's glowing red eyes. Glowing red? He didn't have glowing red eyes before. Did he? Or is that just the simulacrum, just the image of him that I dreamed up?

"So you're saying, if I didn't reject you, you wouldn't punish me?" I say.

"Precisely," Tom says.

"Fine, then," I say, sighing.

Tom grins at me broadly. He leans close over me. "So, then, do you accept me?"

"Yes," I say. It's just a simulacrum, after all. It's not real, anyway. I see no need to be tortured by my own hallucinations, or to be terrified of my own fantasies.

"Say it," Tom says. "Say it clearly."

I sigh. "Yes, I accept you. Alright? Happy now?"

"Yes, much," Tom says. He helps me to my feet again.

I glance to the other three in the room. The real people. Draco and Terry are gaping at me, although Luna looks just about as dreamy as usual. "I'm going back to bed," I say. "If _any_ rumors about this get out, I'll probably kill someone."

"Of course," Draco says.

* * *

I'm very tired when I wake up the next morning. Thankfully, it's a Sunday, so I'm thinking I'll just take a nap in the afternoon and call it good. I've slept in as it is, and breakfast has already started. It doesn't help that I'm still being followed around by a faded simulacrum of Tom Riddle, either. What is _with_ my mind, anyway?

"Harry?" Draco says, coming into the dorm to grab something from his trunk. "What happened last night, anyway?"

"At least cast a privacy spell first, damn it," I mutter.

"Huh?" Draco says.

I snatch his wand from him and say, "_Muffliato_." I hand it back. "You really ought to learn that spell."

"Got it," Draco says. "So, want to tell me? I'm dying to know."

"If anybody wonders, I had a bad dream on the anniversary of my parents' deaths," I say. "And then refused to go to the hospital wing or use a Dreamless Sleep potion."

"Alright," Draco says. "But what _really_ happened? You were talking to the Dark Lord?"

I rub my head. "The Dark Lord returned in June," I say. "He's the one who killed Ginny Weasley."

Draco's eyes widen. "And how were you involved?"

"Painfully," I say. "And he took my wand, too."

"I was wondering why you didn't have it," Draco says. "So... um... which side _are_ you on, anyway?"

"The side that wants to be left alone so I can study," I say, sighing. "I don't think it's going to be that easy, though."

"Probably not," Draco agrees.

"Come on, let's get some breakfast," I say.

We go down to the Great Hall to get something to eat. Thankfully, it doesn't sound like anything but me possibly having nightmares has gotten out. I can deal with people thinking I have nightmares. I mean, it's _true_, after all. But nothing good could happen if they knew the truth, or even what _looks_ like the truth.

After breakfast, as I'm thinking of going to take a nap, Dumbledore calls me into his office. Snape also joins us.

"Is something wrong?" I ask. I really hope this isn't about what happened in Ravenclaw Tower last night. I'm with two skilled Legilimens here. I reinforce my Occlumency barriers stubbornly. They don't need to know about that. I'm so glad that they should not be able to see the simulacrum behind me.

"Harry, something happened last night," Dumbledore says.

I know nothing about this. He can't be talking about me. I keep my face a mask, trying to look like obviously nothing happened to _me_.

"He called us to hide side last night," Snape says. "After the feast." He scowls. "I believe Malfoy was there as well."

They really _aren't_ talking about me. Right, of course not. I hold onto my mask, avoiding making myself appear relieved. They don't seem to be paying too much attention to my reactions anyway, at least.

"So, he's really doing it, then," I say. "How many of them were there?"

"Around two dozen," Snape says.

Dumbledore frowns. "This is most worrying."

Snape turns to me, and says, "He gave me a message for you, as well. He told me he has something of yours, and he will return it in exchange for the prophecy."

"Is that all?" I say, snorting.

"He must not get his hands on the full wording of the prophecy," Dumbledore says.

"Why?" I say. "It's nonsense anyway, and you know it. It's utterly irrelevent. Let him go chasing shadows if he wants to. I want my wand back."

"It might give him an edge in some way," Dumbledore says.

"No it won't," I say.

"It may make him all the more eager to try to kill you," Dumbledore says.

I snort. "Then let him. He's _already_ trying to kill me. I don't see what difference that makes."

"It could make him think he's winning," Dumbledore says. "If we grant him a single concession, he may think that he can succeed at getting others."

"Wouldn't it be a _good_ think if he were willing to resolve his differences through diplomacy rather than violence?" I say.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore says. "But I see no good in coming of this line of thinking. We will not be telling him the prophecy. That's final."

"If that's your final judgment, then I will just have to do it myself," I say. "I have no intention of abiding by that. I want my wand back."

"Harry..." Dumbledore says.

"Don't 'Harry' me," I say. "I _know_ the prophecy. Unless you plan to Obliviate me now, or Merlin forbid, cast another spell to control my actions yourself, you cannot prevent me from doing so. That's my decision, not yours. Do you want a concession for that yourself?"

"Potter, you should not be disrespectful of the Headmaster," Snape says.

"I'm not speaking as a second year student here," I say. "I'm speaking as a member of the Order of the Phoenix. I'm not a little boy, and you know it."

"You are certainly acting like one," Snape points out.

I reel as if struck. "My apologies," I say, bowing my head humbly. "Dumbledore, I would very much like my wand back. I know that the prophecy doesn't matter anymore. At this point, it would only serve as a false lead to send him chasing and wasting his time with. Ultimately, I would prefer if you would allow me to make this decision. What would you do if he had taken _your_ wand?"

"If he had taken my wand, then things would be far more serious than they already are," Dumbledore comments.

"I already know the prophecy," I say. "I would prefer not to have to go behind your back in order to do this. I'll give you another concession if you want it. I still believe in diplomacy."

"I cannot ask that of you, Harry," Dumbledore says.

"I'm offering," I say. "Fair exchange."

"You should not have to give him any concessions," whispers the faint simulacrum of Tom Riddle.

"No," Dumbledore says. "I cannot ask something of you when I'm giving you nothing, regardless."

"Very well," I say.

"Severus, if you can get Harry's wand back from him, then tell him the full prophecy," Dumbledore says. "_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies, and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not, and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies._"

I really didn't know that prophecy. He never actually even told it to me. I've successfully bluffed Dumbledore.

Snape's eyes flick between Dumbledore and me. "If you are certain of this, then I shall do so."

"You must be on your guard, Harry," Dumbledore says. "He will surely redouble his efforts to slay you."

"Let him," I say. "It's not like he can actually kill me. _I can't die_. All it will do is give me the opportunity to know where he's going to be later in the day."

Snape scowls and stares at me for a long moment. "I would not be so cocky, if I were you. He might just find a way to make you stay dead."

"Fine," I say. "I'll be wary. But you'll forgive me if I'm not quite as scared as I otherwise might be." I'm actually pretty terrified of the idea of him _not_ killing me, but I don't mention that.

"You don't need to fear me so much," whispers the translucent image of Tom Riddle behind me.

"You would suggest trying to lead him into a trap by luring him into attempting to kill you?" Dumbledore says, raising an eyebrow.

"Exactly," I say.

"We'll need to also carefully check the wand to make sure that he has not tampered with it in any way," Dumbledore says.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Potter," Snape says. "This is a dangerous game you play."

"I know," I say. "Trust me, alright?"

"That is not very reassuring," Snape says.

* * *

A few days later at breakfast, Snape comes up to the Ravenclaw table and says, "I found your wand, Potter. Do try not to lose it again."

I take it gratefully from him. "Thank you, sir."

Now to see what the fallout from this will be. At least the image of Tom Riddle has finally faded. I really don't know if I ever want to take that potion again. Not if that sort of thing is going to be the result.

"Wait," Draco says after a few minutes. "Didn't you say-"

"_Later_, Draco," I interrupt. I give him a look.

"Oh," Draco says. "Sorry."

"It's a good thing he found it," Cassie says. "I doubt you're ever going to be able to cast _every_ spell wandlessly."

"I'm a little more optimistic than that," I say with a smirk.


	9. Traps and Counter Traps

**Chapter 9: Traps and Counter-Traps**

For Christmas, the Theatre Club is putting on "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas". I must say, Draco makes a far better Grinch than he did Jesus.

I don't need to take the Hogwarts Express back to London, but I do anyway, since I don't want the fact that I can now Apparate to be widely known.

"Oh, Harry," Draco says on the train. "I forgot to mention earlier. My father wanted me to invite you to a party we're having at Malfoy Manor on the twenty-first."

"I'd be happy to come," I say. It's a little obvious of a trap, isn't it?

"What about you, Cassie?" Draco says. "You can come too, if you'd like. Or would you rather stay home and read?" He smirks at her.

"I'll come," Cassie says. "Somebody's got to keep an eye on Harry." She smirks at _me_.

"Great!" Draco says. "It'll be fun. Everyone will be there."

Once I get home, I send Solomon with a letter to Dumbledore informing him of what's going on. And to have people standing by, in case the obvious trap gets sprung. If there's an opportunity to draw the Dark Lord out, I want to have people who have a hope of killing him at my back to do so. Really now. Neither can live while the other survives? I am _never_ being Harry Potter again.

* * *

When Draco said everyone was going to be here, he clearly meant all of the Death Eaters and their families. It's a good thing I've been doing Theatre Club, or it would be blatantly obvious just how nervous I am. As it is, I can act normal and pretend to be oblivious to anything that might possibly go wrong here.

I absently mingle with the crowd for a bit, and pass by a table with refreshments. There's a bowl of green punch. That should quench my thirst. Plenty of other people are drinking it, too, so it should be safe. I scoop myself out a cup and take a sip.

I suddenly feel extremely drowsy. What's this? No! I can't allow myself to be captured again! Before I can pass out, I reflexively force my age down until I wink out of existence.

* * *

I wake in my room in Caer Danas. What was that? If there was something in that punch, why was I the only one affected? Maybe somebody put a contingency spell over it to wake until _I_ took some, or something. Damn it.

Back at the party, I pointed avoid the green punch, no matter how thirsty I am. Come to think, I shouldn't be feeling this thirsty at all. Passing near the refreshment table makes me compulsively feel an urge to drink. A clever enough trap, I suppose. I'm not going to fall into it again.

I make a point not to wander off anywhere by myself. I stay within the full view of the crowd, which includes a number of school children. If anyone wants to do anything to me, they'll need to do so in public. But as the night grows late, the children go away one by one, taken home or taken to bed.

Midnight strikes, and I'm the only one under seventeen in the place. "I should probably be getting home," I tell Lucius, yawning. "It's getting late."

Lucius's lips quirk a bit. "No, I don't think so."

The only ones left are Death Eaters. I'm surrounded. Maybe this wasn't such a great plan after all. I won't have time to get off a signal for help at this rate.

Well, I'm not going down without a fight. I face off with Lucius, wand in hand. "So, is that how it's going to be, is it?"

Lucius sneers at me. "You don't seriously think you can match all of us by yourself, do you? You're just a second year student."

"No, not really," I say. "But I'll fight, even if it's hopeless. _Protego!_" A shimmering shield goes up around me.

"So be it, then," Lucius says.

They aren't bothering with Stunners, to which I'm relieved. They're using lethal curses. They mean to kill me here and now. I don't manage to hold them off for long.

* * *

I wake in Caer Danas. I really should have seen that coming. No matter. I take the opportunity to sleep away the rest of the day and wake only shortly before it's time for the party.

I avoid the punch while considering just how to avoid getting ambushed by Death Eaters at midnight. Well, by obviously not staying until midnight. But the point of this was kind of to draw out the Dark Lord. That makes this entire endeavor pretty pointless if he doesn't show and just leaves it to his Death Eaters. Would he do that, though? Am I absolutely certain that he isn't here? I find it hard to believe that he wouldn't come to the execution of his child nemesis.

At around eleven o'clock, I go over and grab the sleeve of Cassie's midnight blue dress when she looks like she's about to go home. "Cassie," I whisper. "Stay with me."

"Wha?" Cassie mutters. "But I'm tired. I want to go to bed."

"It's a trick," I murmur. "They just want to get me alone. Shake it off."

Cassie blinks for a moment. "Merlin, you're right. They must have subtly compelled all of the other children to want to leave, too. I won't leave you." She looks at me appraisingly, and grins. "Nice to see you're doing something sensible, and not facing down a room full of Death Eaters by yourself."

"Again," I mutter.

I also make a point _not_ to stand in the middle of the crowd this time. We go off to find a defensible position, and wind up on a balcony on the third floor.

"Hoping the Dark Lord himself will make an appearance?" Cassie whispers.

I give a nod. "I wouldn't be here otherwise."

The door leading inside opens, and Yaxley emerges. "So, the girl is still here?" he says. "I was hoping to get you alone."

"Yaxley?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

Yaxley grins as a clock inside begins to strike midnight. His face melts and shifts, and he grows smaller and thinner. In a moment, Tom Riddle is standing there. With red eyes.

"Polyjuice," Cassie says.

"_Protego!_" I say, putting up a magic shield.

Tom didn't come to ambush us alone. Lucius and a couple other Death Eaters emerge onto the balcony as well. A curse battle ensues, and somewhere in the midst of it, I wind up falling off of the balcony. I can't get a spell off fast enough, and land on my head, and die instantly.

* * *

I wake again in Caer Danas. So, the Dark Lord himself _will_ show up after all. Three different traps for me at this one party? Must be trying to make sure that I fall into one or another of them, that's for sure. I hope there aren't anymore surprises waiting for me.

Back at the party once more, I avoid the green punch and get Cassie not to leave. I decide to set up an ambush of my own. I head up to the balcony again.

I think of the rainbow after the storm. "_Expecto Patronum_," I say, and a shimmering duck appears. "Tell Dumbledore it's time." The duck nods and zips off into nowhere.

After a while, 'Yaxley' comes out onto the balcony.

"Hello, Tom," I say lightly.

"_Colloportus_," Cassie says, locking the door and throwing up another couple spells to seal it.

"What?" 'Yaxley' says. As the Polyjuice wears off after the stroke of midnight, he returns to his handsome, sixteen or seventeen year old form. "Don't call me by that filthy Muggle name. And how did you know it was me?"

"Magic," I reply vaguely. "_Fulgoris!_"

Lightning shoots from the end of my wand, and Tom tumbles out of the way and leaps off the edge of the balcony. He doesn't fall, but rather hovers in the air.

"Nice trick," I say.

I take shots at him with Lightning Curses, and Cassie opens up with a number of interesting spells of her own, most of which I don't even recognize. Tom zips around and avoids being struck by our attacks.

A curse gets through our shields and strikes me in the leg. I stagger and catch myself on the railing. Sharp pain, blood running down my leg. I shoot another Lightning Curse toward him for his trouble.

Glancing down, I see movement below. The Death Eaters are coming out the ground floor doorway to bypass the sealed exit to the balcony. We'll be outnumbered soon. Where are the Order of the Phoenix? We probably don't have any hope here without Dumbledore. Ah, there they are, just in time. The two groups face off in a tense standoff, neither of them wanting to make the first move, even as Cassie and I are fighting for our lives up top.

"_Incendio!_" I cast, and actually manage to catch Tom's robes on fire as he's too busy dodging one of Cassie's curses.

Tom points his wand at me, and says, "_Avada Kedavra!_"

I leap out of the way of the flash of green light from the Killing Curse. Come to think, who uses that in a real fight, anyway? Especially at that distance. It's not all that hard to dodge.

And I get hit straight on by a silent curse that he cast immediately after, directly in the path I had to dodge into. I stagger and suddenly feel very ill.

"Harry, we've got to go," Cassie says, putting an arm around my waist to steady me.

"But-"

"Don't argue," Cassie says.

Before I can say another word, she yanks me away with Apparation just ahead of another curse. We land back at the gazebo behind Caer Danas. My head is spinning, and not just from the teleportation.

"You're hurt," Cassie says. "Let's get you inside."

I nod, and let her levitate me toward the house. We'll be safe in there. My stomach roils from the Dark Lord's curse, and I empty its contents into the garden. Cassie takes me inside and sets me down on one of the couches in the main hall.

"Master Harry is hurt?" I hear Dobby's voice, as if from the bottom of a well.

I can feel Cassie working at me, trying to unravel the curses I was hit with. I hover on the edge of consciousness. My vision is swirling.

Tom Riddle's face appears in front of me. "You should have surrendered to me," Tom says. "You should not be fighting me."

I'm hallucinating again. He can't be here. He isn't really here.

"Potter," says another voice. Snape? "Drink this."

A vial is pressed to my lips, and I swallow the liquid running into my mouth without question. My stomach begins to settle down, and my head stops spinning. I fall into a deep sleep.

* * *

I wake in my room in Caer Danas. For a moment, I think I died again, but a dull ache in my leg tells me otherwise. I sit up quickly, wincing at the pain.

"Lay down, Potter," Snape says impatiently. "You can at least not be a recalcitrant patient."

"What happened?" I ask, laying down again.

"Drink," Snape says, giving me another potion. I drink it down. "You lost a fair bit of blood, and you require nutrients. I've healed the damage as best as I could. I'm afraid you'll have a scar on that leg. It was a dark curse, and could not heal completely."

I grunt softly. It's in a slightly different position, but it's almost the same scar I had in another life. Funny, that. "Thank you," I murmur. "What about the Dark Lord? And the Death Eaters?"

"The Dark Lord escaped," Snape says. "The Death Eaters played innocent, like they didn't know what was going on and had just come out to watch the fight. Things are tense, but nothing could be pinned on anyone."

"And the Order of the Phoenix?" I ask.

"No one was hurt," Snape says. "It's doubtful many of them were recognized. But we will still need to be wary in the future."

"So much for luring him into a trap," I mutter. "What will happen now, I wonder?"

"No doubt he will be more wary himself in the future," Snape says. "Provided he's at all sensible. You and Miss Black demonstrated quite clearly that you are not typical second year students."

"It was a risk," I say. "But it was worth it, I think."

Snape leaves the room, and Cassie comes in a little bit later. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," I say. "You okay? You didn't get hurt yourself or anything, did you?"

Cassie shakes her head. "No, I'm fine. He didn't touch me."

"Good," I say. "We almost had him..."

Cassie smirks. "It's fair question as to who almost had who. It could have gone either way, I think." She looks at me appraisingly. "You were holding your own adequately, but you still have a long way to go."

"I know," I say.

Draco comes into the room. "You're awake," he says. "Laying down on the job after surviving another encounter with the Dark Lord, huh?"

"Draco?" I say. "How'd you get here?"

"Cassie brought me," Draco says. "Didn't know she could Apparate already. I've totally got to learn that myself. And your house-elf let me in."

"I see," I say, frowning.

"It was... a little awkward staying at Malfoy Manor after that," Draco says. "I wanted to get out of there for a bit."

"I'm sorry if I ruined your Christmas," I say.

Draco waves his hand dismissively. "I just wish I could have seen the fight. I can't believe it. You were fighting the Dark Lord at _my house_? What in Merlin's name happened?"

"I smelled a trap," I say. "And he was trying to kill me."

"I'm _so_ confused," Draco says. "I thought you were on _his_ side there."

"I'm not going to just let him kill me," I say.

"Well, that's certainly understandable," Draco says.

"So are you planning to stay here for Christmas?" I ask.

"Probably not," Draco says. "My father won't be happy as it is to find out that I came here. The Order of the Phoenix? Really? What have I gotten myself into?"

"I'm not forcing you into anything, Draco," I say. "I think whatever you decide to do should be _your choice_, and not because it was what was expected of you, or what you got dragged into, or because you think you have no choice."

"You aren't afraid I might betray you or something?" Draco asks.

"No," I say. "Trust always risks betrayal, but life without trust isn't worth living. And I'll gladly give my life for anyone I consider a friend or ally."

Draco snorts softly. "I'd say that's an awfully naive light-sided attitude. But I won't complain if it happens to wind up working in my favor."

I laugh aloud. "The world isn't all just black and white, Draco. _I_ believe in the rainbow."

* * *

Christmas comes and goes, and no more is heard from the Dark Lord for the time being. We return to school and resume classes. I'll be happy to get through another term without anyone trying to kill me in the process.

Not that it winds up being an entirely painless term. For Theatre Club, we're putting on Macbeth.

"Macbeth!" I say.

"Quit saying that name!" Gemma chides me.

"Why?" I say.

"It's bad luck," Gemma says. "Unfortunate things might happen because of it."

I snort softly. "Nonsense."

"I won't be held responsible for anything bad that happens to you for saying that name," Gemma says with a smirk.

That evening, I slip and fall in the shower and break my neck, killing myself randomly. Bad luck? I'm sure it's just a coincidence. My luck is _already_ bad.

And so I die a total of twenty-two times over the course of the term after saying the name of the Scottish Play. I stubbornly refuse to stop doing it, and fortune only winds up favoring me in that the term eventually ends and we actually put on the play. And then I die twice during the performance.

"Top marks in all your classes again?" Draco says.

"Hey, it wasn't easy!" I say. "I really had to work for Potions!"

"You make it look easy, the way you spend your class periods practicing wandless magic," Draco says.

"I never want to be caught helpless without a wand," I say.

"It's going to get to a point where the spells are too complicated to do without a wand, though," Cassie says.

"I'll keep at it anyway," I say. "I'm stubborn."

"So, you guys got any plans for the summer?" Draco asks.

I shrug. "Dunno."

"Would you mind if I came over to your place to visit for a bit?" Draco asks.

"Not at all," I say. "You can come anytime you like and stay for as long as you want, as far as I'm concerned."

Draco grins. "Thanks. I'll do that."

Professor Malfoy spent much of the term refusing to look at me. That hasn't really been difficult to avoid me, though, considering I don't have classes with him yet. I wonder how that's going to shape up next year, when I'm actually going to start in on Politics as an elective. I hope this isn't going to be too awkward.

School ends, and we take the Hogwarts Express back to King's Cross Station. From there, it's back home to Caer Danas.

In my main hall, the Order of the Phoenix is arranged, sitting on the various couches and chairs. "Ah, good, you're here, Potter," Moody says. "We're making plans to catch Voldemort."

"And I'm the bait again, I presume?" I say, smirking.

"I'd normally object to using a twelve year old boy as bait," Emmeline says. "But considering his... unique abilities..."

"I'm quite happy to play bait," I say. "Especially if it can keep anyone more vulnerable out of harm's way. Has there been any sign as to what he's been doing for the last six months?"

"He has moved to a new location," Snape says. "And is still meeting regularly with some of the inner circle of Death Eaters. But if he's planning anything in particular, he has not let me in on it."

"Unsurprising," I say. "And he clearly hasn't dared strike at me while I've been at school. I can always make some public appearances by myself or with a minimal guard to see if he tries anything."

"Have I told you lately that you're insane?" Rispy comments from beside me.

I laugh. "No, not recently, but thanks for mentioning."

"Anytime," Rispy says. "Dobby's got dinner ready. He's positively thrilled to be cooking for this many people."

"Ah, food," I say. "Just what I need to not die of starvation."

* * *

I spend some time making trips to wizarding London, patrolling for any sign of dark activity. On my off time, Cassie insists on drilling me in combat, not satisfied with my fourth-year education.

At least, being able to Apparate on my own now, I don't need to wait on anyone else to do my patrols. One night in late July, I slip out after a quick nap, take on the form of a middle-aged man, and head for Knockturn Alley.

It's nice to be anonymous sometimes. It's nice not to be attracting every stare for the supposed Boy-Who-Lived. In my adult form, all I need to do is make sure that my scar isn't visible, and nobody gives me a second look.

It also lets me buy alcohol readily. Heh. I head into a seedy-looking pub in Knockturn Alley and order a firewhiskey. I make the excuse that pubs are a good place to gather information. I just need to be careful not to actually get drunk and do something stupid.

If I were the Dark Lord, I wouldn't be going around looking like myself, either, if I were trying not to attract attention. I've got a ready-made disguise, but if I were really paranoid, I'd be using Polyjuice or an invisibility cloak or Disillusionment spells. And the former is most useful if I actually want to be interacting with other people.

I look at the various patrons around the pub. If the Dark Lord were using Polyjuice regularly, he could be anyone. He could be that shadowy figure sitting ominously in the corner. Nah, too obvious. He could be the obese woman with the oversized breasts. Nah, I wouldn't be foolish enough to use a form that would be so clumsy in a fight. He could be the thin, blond boy in his late teens. Hmm, yeah, could be. Unlikely, but could be.

I down my firewhiskey and go over to him. "Hey, Tom, how you doing?" I say, greeting him like an old friend.

The boy jumps in startlement, his brown eyes flashing with apprehension. "Wha? I'm not- That's not my name."

"Oh, sorry," I say. "Must've mistaken you for someone else. Too much firewhiskey." I laugh softly. "Or not enough. Barkeep! Another firewhiskey! And one for Bob here, on me."

"My name isn't Bob, either," the boy says.

I return home after another firewhiskey, thinking that 'Not-Tom-or-Bob' is spending a lot of time looking at me uneasily the entire time. The next morning, I sleep in past noon.

"You actually slept in today?" Sirius says. "I'll get you into proper sleeping habits yet."

"Sirius," I say. "You once mentioned that you used a variant of a spell to determine people's names in the Marauder's Map. What spell was it?"

"Ah, the Naming Charm," Sirius says. "Here, I'll show you. The incanation is _Nomino_." He demonstrates the movements for me with his spruce wand.

I practice it several times before I get it down. "And it only shows the name for the caster. Good."

"Right," Sirius says.

That night, I head out again in disguise to Knockturn Alley, whispering _Nomino_ at everyone I see with my wand tucked away in a long sleeve.

And then I see the blond boy again, looking through a bookstore. "_Nomino_," I whisper. The words _Tom Marvolo Riddle_ appear over his head. I give a small grin. Found you.

"Looking for something, Joe?" I say, coming up behind him.

Tom jumps and spins around. "Oh, it's you again. My name isn't Joe!"

"Sorry, Mike," I say. "So, can I help you find something?"

"Do you even work here?" Tom asks.

I shrug. "You looked like you were looking for something."

Tom grumbles. "I was wondering if they had any copies of _Secrets of the Darkest Art_."

"Oh, hmm," I say, frowning thoughtfully. "I'll help you look."

Tom stares at me for a few moments, before going, "Thanks."

We start looking through the bookshelves, but I see no indication of any copies of the book he's looking for. "So, what _is_ your name, anyway?" I ask.

"Marvolo," Tom replies.

So, going by his middle name, is he? "I'm Lexen," I say. "Nice to meet you."

"Yeah," Tom says unenthusiastically. "Great."

"Bah, why don't we just _Accio_ the thing, if it's here?" I say.

"They've got anti-theft charms to prevent Summoning Charms from working," Tom says.

"Awfully paranoid," I say, shrugging. "Oh well."

Tom looks at me for a long moment, examining my eyes. "Are you related to Harry Potter, by chance?"

"Huh?" I say. "Well, I _am_ a pureblood, so he's probably my cousin or something. Why?"

"You've just got the same eyes, that's all," Tom says. "I haven't seen eyes quite that shade of green very often."

I shrug. "Dunno," I say. "Maybe that Mudblood mum of his was actually a Squib's baby or something."

"Maybe," Tom says.

"And we're having no luck finding this book," I say. "Maybe we should try another shop."

"Good idea," Tom says.

We head out of the store and down through Knockturn Alley. I have my wand out, pointed at him, hidden in my left sleeve. It would be so easy to just hit him with a Killing Curse and end this here and now. So why am I hesitating? Waiting for the proper moment when there are no witnesses?

We're inside another bookstore. Aside from a napping proprietor, the place is deserted tonight. Tom's attention is entirely upon the shelves. So easy. No witnesses.

As I'm standing there, Tom turns around and looks at me. "What are you doing?" he asks quietly.

"Trying to work up the nerve to murder you," I reply.

Tom snorts. "Well, at least you're honest about it." He seems calm, but his wand is in his hand in the blink of an eye, pointed at me as well. "Although you won't get very far with that attitude. Why do you want to kill me, anyway?"

I shrug. "I haven't killed anyone lately."

"And _I_ struck you as the best target?" Tom says. "You should just go after a Muggle or something if you want to commit random violence."

"There's no thrill in killing someone who can't fight back," I say.

"Should I take this as a compliment?" Tom says, grinning. "You know, if you're looking for a chance at a good fight, I know a group that could use someone like you." He snorts softly. "They could _definitely_ use someone who isn't afraid to get blood on his hands. Although you're hesitating just as much as _they_ were..."

"I was hesitating at killing you when your back was turned," I say with a grin. "Not at the prospect of killing you at all."

Tom's grin broadens. "If you want to duel, why don't we take this outside? No sense in harming the books."

"Let's," I say, licking my lips.

We step into a back alley behind the bookshop and drop into dueling postures, and start exchanging spells. I don't need to worry about holding back here. I don't need to restrict myself to magic that Dumbledore wouldn't frown upon. I can let myself go, and it is _wonderful_.

Tom is beautiful in motion. I realize that he didn't actually use Polyjuice or anything, he just changed the color of his hair and eyes. Or just make them stop glowing red, or something. He moves with a fluid grace, like dancing water. It's glorious. I almost find myself getting so caught up in staring at him that I fail to pay attention to dodging his attacks.

Then, a curse slams me into the far wall, and my wand drops from my fingers. I slide to the ground, groaning.

"You're not half bad," Tom says. "But you seem a little distracted." He smirks at me. He picks up my wand and hands it back to me.

"I was watching you," I say. "You're... really good."

"I'm not going to kill you, Lexen," Tom says. "It would be a shame to waste a potential ally. Do think about joining up with my group." He pulls out a business card from his pocket and passes it over to me. "It's a portkey. If you decide you want to look into my offer, tear it in half to activate it."

I take the card and look at it blankly. "Thanks," I say.

"Farewell, Lexen," Tom says, turning to leave me alone in Knockturn Alley.


	10. Breaking Shadows

**Chapter 10: Breaking Shadows**

I really don't trust the portkey Tom gave me, but I keep it around in my bag of holding regardless. I don't go back to Knockturn Alley that summer, however. And the only one I tell about that encounter with the Dark Lord is Cassie.

Cassie peers over the business card I show her. "Blair & Associates? This sounds like a legal firm."

"Probably not the real location of his headquarters," I say. "Probably just a secure off-site or something. I don't think I'll be testing it out, though."

"Why did you fight him again?" Cassie asks. "You know you couldn't have beaten him."

"I know," I say. "But... I wanted to watch him fight again."

Cassie gives me an odd look. "Oh, you're cataloguing his weaknesses and fighting style? Good idea. See what spells he likes to use and use that knowledge against him."

"Sure, let's go with that," I say. "So, what's in _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ that can't be readily found anywhere else?"

"I'm not sure," Cassie says.

In August, I discover that Mundungus is apparently using my house to store smuggled goods. I look over the crates of illicit materials tucked away in a side room, and smirk at him.

"Oh, um..." Mundungus says. "Hello, Harry. How did you like the you-know-what?"

"I think I'll pass on them," I say, pulling the remaining potions out and offering them back to him. "I don't know what it says about me that I hallucinate homoerotic Dark Lords."

Mundungus blinks at me. "Well, that's certainly... different."

"Carry on," I say lightly. "Do be sure not to get caught. The other Order members might disapprove of what you're doing. But this is _my_ house, and _I_ don't care."

"Thank you, Harry," Mundungus says. "I owe you one."

For my electives this year, I've decided to go with Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, and Politics. I'm really looking forward to the upper years in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, and Politics should be an interesting study even at this level.

"You're not taking Magical Creatures?" Sirius asks, sounding a little disappointed.

"No," I say.

"But... Politics? With Malfoy?" Sirius says, frowning.

"It'll be a very useful experience," I say. "Why?"

"Well... oh, never mind," Sirius says.

When I arrive at school on September first, I discover that Sirius is now the new Magical Creatures professor, with Professor Kettleburn having retired. And Dumbledore didn't ask me, _again_. I'll assume that he thought it was a choice I would in no way object to. But it's the principle of it. At least it beats Hagrid. He meant well and all, but damned Blast-Ended Skrewts.

Well, that's alright. If he's refusing to pay the price for that concession, then I don't have to abide by it. I'm not even going to take it up with him again. I'll just feel free to do whatever I want to anyway. Although, it's been kind of beneficial to me to be an ideal student and never get into trouble. It makes people far less likely to suspect me if I actually _do_ something wrong.

I have Wizarding Politics with Cassie and Draco, and almost all of my other classmates there are Slytherins. There's one Hufflepuff, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and not a single Gryffindor in sight.

"Gryffindors don't appreciate politics?" I comment upon seeing this.

"Did you really expect otherwise?" Draco says.

"Well, more the fools, then," I say.

Professor Malfoy protrays the world of politics as a cutthroat battlefield where every word can be an attack. A battlefield on which the greatest victory lies in convincing your enemy of your point of view and supporting your objectives willingly. I knew there had to be a reason why Malfoy has effectively gotten away with murder in the past.

* * *

Another Halloween. What could possibly happen this year? I'm nervous, perhaps unreasonably so, but I can hardly eat because of it. Maybe one of these years I'll be able to relax enough to actually enjoy the Halloween Feast.

I find myself looking at the staff table, glancing at Snape and Malfoy and trying to read their faces for any indication that they know something might happen tonight. But their faces are unreadable. If they know anything, they don't show it.

"The nargles are out in force tonight," Luna says offhandedly.

I'm in my dorm room later about to go to bed, when a silvery phoenix Patronus appears before me. "Come to my office immediately," says Dumbledore's voice.

"Harry?" Draco says. "What was that?"

"Dumbledore wants to see me," I say.

I give him a wave and hurry out of the room, thankful that I hadn't yet changed into my dragon pajamas. My heart is pounding. What terrible thing might have happened to make Dumbledore call me in this late on a Halloween?

I come into Dumbledore's office. Mad-Eye Moody is present, and his magical glass eye swivels around to look at me when I enter. "There he is," Moody says.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"There's been a breakout at Azkaban," Dumbledore says.

"What happened?" I wonder.

"Voldemort's doing," Moody says. "Has to be."

"The Aurors got there too late," Dumbledore says. "Seven of them are dead, three more met the Dementor's Kiss."

"The Dark Lord can control Dementors somehow?" I wonder.

"The Dementors do seem to have joined forces with him," Dumbledore says.

"No surprise there," Moody says. "I've been telling them for years that they can't trust the Dementors."

"Indeed," Dumbledore agrees.

"Do you want me to go back and try to stop this?" I say.

"If it can save lives and prevent disaster..." Dumbledore says.

"I can certainly try," I say. "If nothing else, with more of a forewarning, we can prepare for the attack better. What were the enemy forces like?"

"Over a dozen Death Eaters, and who knows how many Dementors," Moody says. "There were werewolves there, too, around half a dozen of those. Not good that there's a full moon tonight."

"Wonderful," I mutter. "Any other information I should take back?"

"The attack took place about an hour ago." Dumbledore says. "Are you certain about doing this, Harry?"

"There's no cost to _me_," I say. "Only to you." Well, there _is_ the fact that I can only do it so many times in one day before I can't go on. And I've got some essence potions that might be able to extend that a little if need be.

"Very well, Harry," Dumbledore says. "I'll leave it up to you."

I nod. "I've got to try. Farewell, Dumbledore, Moody."

I will my Time Magic to make me younger and take me out of existence before anyone can doom me by wishing me luck.

* * *

I wake in the Ravenclaw dormitory on Halloween morning. The attack won't be until tonight, so there's plenty of time to make the necessary preparations. I get dressed and head down to Dumbledore's office.

"Good morning, my boy," Dumbledore says. "What can I do for you today?"

"The Dark Lord is going to attack Azkaban tonight, at around nine o'clock," I say. "He's going to break out his supporters who have been imprisoned there. He'll have the Dementors on his side, as well as at least a dozen Death Eaters and a pack of werewolves."

Dumbledore frowns deeply. "I see. I'll make the necessary preparations to defend the place as well as possible under the circumstances."

I nod. "I'd like to be there."

"I cannot deny you a position at the front lines if that's where you want to be," Dumbledore says. "Will Miss Black come as well?"

"I'll ask her," I say.

"Come to my office after the feast, and we'll gather our forces," Dumbledore says.

I nod, and head out. After breakfast, I drag Cassie off to an empty classroom.

"What is it, Harry?" Cassie says, grinning a little. "Are you trying to get me alone for snogging or something?"

I smirk. "No, although if I wanted to snog any girl, it would probably be you. But no. I've got to tell you, there's going to be an attack on Azkaban tonight. Dumbledore's gathering forces to defend the place. I was going to ask if you wanted to be there and help fight."

"Ah," Cassie says, expression seeming to be a mix of flattered and disappointed. "Of course. You'll want everyone you can get to fight. But are we going up against Dementors, or are they still on our side?"

"They've gone over to the Dark Lord," I say.

"I can't cast the Patronus Charm, though," Cassie says.

"I'm sure you won't be the only one who can't, although it would be useful," I say.

"I'm surprised that _you_ can cast it," Cassie says. "You seem much more inclined toward dark magic to me."

"It took me _years_ to get it," I say. "But in the end, what was holding me back wasn't pronunciation or wand movements or anything, those were easy. The hard part was getting the right mindset."

"You need a happy memory, right?" Cassie says. "Funny, up until recently, I don't know that I would have ever called myself 'happy'."

"You're happy now?" I say.

Cassie grins broadly. "I wouldn't have called myself unhappy before, either. I don't think I really knew what I was missing, you know? Like I've gone my entire life seeing only in black and white, and then suddenly, all the colors of the world were opened up to me."

I smile at her. "You want to know what my happy memory is? There was a stormy night, and Dementors were after Sirius. He was a fugitive, you see. And I was running with him and Remus into the Forbidden Forest, trying to get away. And then Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape of all people, came to save us. As we were heading back to the castle, the sun was rising, and I saw a rainbow over the lake. When I saw that, I realized... All troubles are fleeting. All things will pass, in time. Life will go on. _Expecto Patronum_."

I wave my wand, and a translucent duck made of silvery moonlight appears before me. I let it linger for a few moments before canceling the spell.

"That's lovely," Cassie says. "I never thought I would be here, fighting the Dark Lord like this. I never imagined that I would get another chance to live life again, and do all the things I regretted never doing too late to do anything about. Show me the wand movements again."

I demonstrate it for her a couple times, and she imitates it without saying the words a few times herself before trying it verbally.

"_Expecto Patronum_," Cassie says. A flicker of shimmering light emerges from her wand for a second. She frowns a little.

"That's a lot better than _my_ first try," I say. "Or even the first try that I actually got _any_ reaction from it at all. Keep at it."

"_Expecto Patronum_," Cassie says. A wisp of bright silvery vapor erupts from the wand for a few moments.

"I think you can do it," I say. "Focus. Focus hard on the thoughts and emotions. It's just like how doing dark magic often requires you to focus upon a negative emotion, it's just a different focus for this."

Cassie nods. "_Expecto Patronum_." A light almost like a shield appears.

"Well, you can cast a noncorporeal Patronus at least," I say. "That would certainly help against the Dementors. I never actually cast a corporeal one myself until I was faced with needing to fight off a horde of Dementors."

"I think this must be about the one spell you can do and I can't," Cassie says with a smirk.

"Heh," I say. "Don't tell yourself that you can't. Confidence, remember? Believe in yourself. _I_ believe in you."

Cassie smiles at me. "Well, one way or another, I'm not getting left behind tonight. I'll fight."

* * *

Azkaban. What a lovely piece of the Abyss. If the Death Eaters don't free all the prisoners tonight, I've half a mind to do it myself. I shiver a little, between the cold of the rocky island and the nearby presence of Dementors, even behind a number of Patroni. Patronuses. Whatever.

The Order of the Phoenix is here, at least the members who can fight worth beans. There are also a number of Aurors, everyone who could be brought in on short notice without readily alerting the Death Eaters to our foreknowledge.

And then there's me and Cassie. I'm in an adult form of about forty years old, and Cassie is under Polyjuice as Mundungus Fletcher, who opted not to come himself. The Order members know who we are, but the rest of the Aurors don't. It's just as well that not many of those present would recognize my duck Patronus.

Then, right on schedule, the Dark Lord arrives with his Death Eaters and werewolves. They're shocked to see us there. But this time, they don't hold back. They're masked, and think themselves anonymous. And they have the Dementors on their side.

The scene quickly turns into a bloody battlefield as chaos erupts around us. Curses fly, and I watch people on both sides go down. I have no idea who is dead and who might just be unconscious, but I know I see some green Killing Curses flashing in the air.

In the midst of battle, a stray curse strikes me. I can't see who did it. I collapse, blood pouring from my throat. I'm dead in moments.

* * *

I wake in my room in Ravenclaw Tower. I go down to tell Dumbledore what's going to happen this evening. I speak with Cassie and repeat our Patronus lesson. I think I'm really starting to develop a tolerance for repetition. Then, after lunch, I sleep until the feast.

After eating, it's back to Azkaban. This time, when the battle begins, I don't stick with the others. I go off with Cassie a ways away from the others. Too many people, too many spells flying around. I can't keep track of them all to dodge them. I blast a werewolf with a Lightning Curse and set about to guarding our flank.

Dementors are swarming around as close to the herd of spirit animals as they dare. Being around Dementors for so long wears at my mind. I have so many horrible memories for them to dredge up. The corpses of people I care about, the screams of my cousins as they're tortured to death...

"Lexen!" Cassie says in alarm. At least she had the presence of mind to remember my non-fake pseudonym. My Patronus is weakening and flickering.

"I don't know how much longer I can hold it," I say. The duck is fading rapidly.

"_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_" Cassie shrieks.

There's a burst of light, and another silvery bird emerges from her wand. A sleek raven made of pure moonlight. It dives in and attacks the Dementors who are crowding around me, driving them away.

"I won't let them have you," Cassie says.

"Thank you..." I whisper, smiling at her. "_Expecto Patronum_." My duck returns, as strong as ever.

We try to make our way back toward the others. It's impossible to tell what the casualties on either side might be like. I think there's more fighting going on inside the prison itself, so we head in.

Pushing the Dementors away as we go, we find ourselves outside of the cell of someone who looks like she could be a relative of Cassie and Sirius. "Bellatrix," Cassie says, looking in at her.

Bellatrix stands, strengthened by the presence of the duck and raven, although still looking very weak. "What is this? Light in the darkness? Has the Dark Lord come to free me, that I may return to his side once again?"

"Yeah," I say. "He has." Well, it's true. It just has nothing to do with why _we_ happen to be here.

"But who are you?" Bellatrix asks. "I've never heard of a Death Eater who could cast a Patronus. Are you new recruits?"

"We don't work for him at all, Bella," Cassie says. "And I don't know what you ever saw in him, either."

"What I saw in him?" Bellatrix says. "He was a genius! He was beautiful! Powerful! His magic was delicious, and the way he moved in a fight, his deadly grace... You can't appreciate him like I did!"

I understand. I understand that all too well. "How long have you been in here?"

"I don't know," Bellatrix says. "How long has it been? Since 1981..."

"It's 1993 now," I say.

"Twelve years?" Bellatrix says, laughing bitterly. "Twelve long years... Well, are you going to get me out of here, or did you just come to stand there and mock me for my plight?"

"What did you do to deserve this?" I ask.

"Deserve?" Bellatrix says. "I deserved nothing. They put me in here after I attacked the Longbottoms. Alice and Frank were their names. Yes. I tortured them, along with my husband and his brother. The Cruciatus Curse. Tortured them until they knew no more, because they wouldn't tell us where the Dark Lord had gone, wouldn't tell us what happened to him..."

I clench my fist in rage. So, _she_ was the one responsible for that. "Nobody deserves to be left to the Dementors, no matter what they've done. I will show you mercy."

"Lexen?" Cassie says, raising an eyebrow at me.

I raise my wand to Bellatrix and gather all of my anger and hate. "In the name of Neville Longbottom... _Avada Kedavra!_"

A flash of green light strikes Bellatrix square in the chest, and she collapses.

Cassie stares, wide-eyed. "I didn't realize you could cast that spell."

"I can do the Imperius, too," I say. "I never bothered to learn the Cruciatus. I could never come up with a justification for ever actually using it under any circumstances."

We continue on down the corridor, away from Bellatrix's cell. The sounds of fighting somewhere nearby echo through the prison. Then, as we round a corner, we come face to face with the Dark Lord himself.

Tom's eyes flash with recognition at seeing me. "More members of the Order of the Flaming Chicken come to stop me?"

"Indeed," I say. "_Protego_." A shield shimmers into existence around me.

"Tell me, Lexen," Tom says. "Does Dumbledore realize you're a dark wizard?"

I snort softly. "Nice to see you again, too, Marvolo."

"You should join me," Tom says. "Why are you fighting for them? Why are you fighting to support an ineffectual and incompetent Ministry, run by fools who see only their own positions?"

"It's not the Ministry I'm fighting for," I say.

"Then what?" Tom says. "Dumbledore? The lord of lies and master of manipulation?"

"No," I say. "My reasons are my own. I will not discuss them here."

"Then let us fight, if that's what you intend," Tom says. "But I will not go easy on you this time."

I grin broadly, and bow to him. "If I am to fall in battle, I would be honored if it were to be by your wand."

Cassie and I fight against Tom Riddle, side by side, two on one. Even with both of us against him, we're still maybe, possibly an even match for him. He's powerful, and a lot more skilled in actual battle than either of us. Cassie is an experienced dark witch, but she spent more of her time on academic pursuits rather than martial. I don't overestimate our chances at winning this.

After several volleys of spells, a curse blasts Cassie back, sending the broken body of Mundungus Fletcher flying back along the corridor. I don't look. She's either dead or she's not, but I need to focus on what I'm doing. I can't wallow in guilt about leading her to her death.

Then, another curse strikes me, leaving me laying on the ground bleeding out my lifeblood.

"You should have joined me, Lexen," Tom says.

"Not this time, Lord Voldemort," I murmur. "Perhaps another time." I smile at him and chuckle. It hurts to laugh. I cough up blood. "Farewell." The world fades, and darkness takes me.

* * *

I wake in the Ravenclaw boys' dorm on Halloween afternoon. I head down to the feast, sure to eat plenty of chocolate while there to dispel any lingering effects of Dementor exposure.

After the feast in Dumbledore's office, I say, "I've already been through this fight twice. Cassie and I wound up inadvertently cornered by the Dark Lord himself the second time. I'm sorry I got you killed, Cassie."

Cassie shakes her head. "Don't worry about _me_. I chose to go along. And if I were to die today, I won't regret it. You gave me a life I could never have had. I might well have been dead by now if it weren't for you. So don't ever apologize for that."

"Alright..." I say, smiling faintly at her.

We head to Azkaban again, and the battle ensues. I get away from the main part of the battle to avoid getting killed in the crossfire. I manage to keep my Patronus going a little longer, but as we head inside and are surrounded by Dementors, it starts failing again.

"_Expecto Patronum!_" Cassie cries, and her raven Patronus comes out again. "They won't have you. I won't let them take you."

I smile at her warmly, and recast my duck Patronus. We continue on through the prison, following the sounds of battle to attempt to reunite with some of our compatriots. If we run into the Dark Lord again, we would rather it not be alone. And I told Dumbledore exactly where he was going to be and when. This time, we might just be able to catch him.

"There you are, Lexen, Mundungus," Dumbledore says as we join up with him. "Have you seen Tom?"

I shake my head. "He should be here any moment, though."

Sure enough, Tom Riddle comes down the corridor toward us. He isn't alone, however. Bellatrix Lestrange is at his side. She hardly looks like she can hold a wand, however, never mind fight. But then there's the Dementors pressing in at us from all sides, barely held at bay by the light of our three avian Patroni.

"So, you came yourself, did you, Dumbledore," Tom says. His eyes flick toward me as well, clearly recognizing my adult form.

"Surrender, Tom," Dumbledore says. "It does not need to end this way."

"You always were a fool, weren't you," Tom says. "No, I don't think so. And I'm not giving you the pleasure of this battle today, either."

Tom waves his wand, and a dark, choking smoke obscures my vision, stinging at my eyes. I keep a Shield Charm up, but nothing strikes it. There's some spells flying, but they're from Cassie and Dumbledore. When the smoke clears and I can see again, Tom and Bellatrix are gone.

"Damn it," Cassie says. "They got away."

"We've got to try and catch them!" I say.

"Let us head for the entrance to the prison," Dumbledore says. "We can at least attempt to keep the casualties to a minimum."

Once outside again, we manage to get an assessment of the battle. The Dementors are keeping our side busy while the Death Eaters make their escape. There are casualties on both sides, however. I don't know how many of the bodies are dead and how many are merely stunned, but some of them look like something one might see in a butcher's shop. There's no way they could have survived that.

The duck, raven, and phoenix Patroni join the others in beating off the Dementors. Eventually, the shadowy menaces retreat, but not before their allies have made their escape.

In the wake of battle, we try to sort things out, figure out who is alive and dead. Three Aurors are dead, and one Kissed. One werewolf is dead, the one I killed myself. All of the members of the Order of the Phoenix survived, but on the downside, so did all of the Death Eaters.

Once back in the safety of the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore says, "That could have gone better."

"It could have gone worse, too," I say. "It wasn't a victory. But at least it wasn't as bad of a defeat as the first time. That time, there were seven deaths, and three Kissed. At least we prevented _some_ of the casualties. Do you think I should try again?"

Dumbledore thinks for a moment, and shakes his head. "I don't know anything we could have done better. Luck was not on our side tonight. Dark magic is strong tonight, and its favor to them showed quite clearly."

I give a nod. "Then, we should probably head to bed, I suppose. I don't know how I'm going to sleep after that, though."

"Let's go to the kitchens and stuff ourselves with chocolate," Cassie says. "Hot chocolate, chocolate cake, chocolate ice cream..." At least the Polyjuice has worn off by this point. It's really weird seeing her looking like Mundungus Fletcher.

I chuckle softly. "After that? I think we could stand that."

"Enjoy," Dumbledore says. "Do try to sleep sometime. You can get excused from tomorrow's classes if you need to, though. As for me, I must try to deal with the aftermath of the battle. Don't forget to age yourself down again."

"Right," I say, shifting myself into the form of a thirteen year old boy again.

Cassie takes my hand and drags me off. "Come on. Let's go bug the house-elves for treats. I could _bathe_ in chocolate after being around so many Dementors."

"Now there's a mental image," I say, smirking. "But wouldn't it be more useful to _eat_ it?"


	11. Known Secrets

**Chapter 11: Known Secrets**

I opt not to get out of classes the next day, but I'm pretty tired even with a Wideye Potion. Not too tired to keep going, though.

"Grackles, Stormseeker?" Luna says to me at breakfast. "Both red and black ones?"

I frown a little. I haven't heard about grackles in quite some time. The invisible insect-like things that appear around a person when they have killed. Red ones for a violent death in combat, black ones for murder. Black ones for killing Bellatrix? But that didn't wind up actually happening. Strange.

"What's she on about now?" Draco says.

"What is she ever?" I say.

As breakfast ends, I catch Neville leaving the Gryffindor table and gently pull him aside. He seems quiet and haunted this morning, but reluctantly stops to speak with me.

"What is it, Harry?" Neville asks.

"You heard about last night, I take it," I say.

"How could I not?" Neville says. "It's all over the paper. Everyone's talking about it."

I lower my voice. "Rest easy, Neville. She'll get what's coming to her. One way or another."

"You know?" Neville murmurs, eyes widening.

I give a small nod. "I know. It's alright, Neville." I put my hand on his shoulder reassuringly.

"Thanks," Neville says.

We head along to class. I can't help but keep thinking about what we might have done differently last night. Should we have just evacuated the Aurors and _let_ the Death Eaters take everyone they wanted without resistance? At least nobody would have died then, but it would set a bad precedent, I think.

Professor Malfoy comes up to me in Politics and jabs me with his cane. "It would behoove you, Mr. Potter, to pay attention in my class."

"Yes, sir," I say, straightening. "Sorry, sir."

"Tired, Mr. Potter?" Malfoy says. "Have a late night, did you?" He looks over to Cassie, who is trying to hide how sleepy she is as well, although she's less so than I am. "Was there an exciting Ravenclaw Halloween party last night? Or were the two of you up doing things you weren't supposed to?"

"Wait," Draco says. "Were you two _snogging_?"

I snort softly. Cassie is blushing. I put my face in my hands.

"Fine," Malfoy says. "Then why don't you demonstrate to us the ability to remain calm and smooth, and react to any situation that arises, regardless of your physical and mental condition? Mr. Potter! Miss Black! Up front!"

Cassie and I go to the front of the classroom obediently. Malfoy commands the class to bombard us with questions, accusations, demands. Cassie fares better than I do. I wind up stammering and staggering, nervous and weary. I'm most terrified about anything slipping that would connect us to Azkaban, but it seems everyone thinks Cassie and I were having a liaison instead. I don't care to try to dissuade them of that. In fact, I try to encourage it as much as I can without being obvious about it.

"Sit down, Mr. Potter, Miss Black," Malfoy says. "Five points from Ravenclaw for Potter's poor performance. Come and see me after class."

"Yes, sir," I mutter.

After class, I take a seat across from Professor Malfoy in his office, nervous, twitchy. He's not a Legilimens, so far as I know, and even if he were, he wouldn't be able to get through my Occlumency barriers. But I'm still really, really nervous. I wonder what the Dark Lord has told him about last night. Could he possibly connect anything to me? No, I must relax. Act normal. I was obviously snogging Cassie last night. Not defending Azkaban from Death Eaters.

"So, Mr. Potter," Malfoy says. "Is there anything you'd care to tell me about last night?"

"No, sir," I reply firmly.

"Nothing at all?" Malfoy says. "Nothing about your dear sweet Cassiopeia? Or perhaps you'd just like to take a nap?"

"I don't see how it's any of your business, sir," I say.

"It is precisely my business when it interferes with my classes," Malfoy says. "Especially given what happened at my Yule party last year."

"Oh, I thought we were pretending that didn't happen," I say absently. "I don't see what that has to do with your classes, either, though."

"You were sneaking around alone with Miss Black then also," Malfoy says.

I stare at him. Of all the things that happened that night, _that_ is what he fixates on? "Yes, sir. What's your point?"

"Mr. Potter," Malfoy says. "Do you intend to marry Miss Black?"

My jaw drops in shock. "I- I- wait, what? Marry? But we're thirteen!"

"Traditional pureblood marriages have been arranged for at younger ages," Malfoy says. "Of course, you're both half-bloods. Still, you could certainly do worse. What does her father think of this?"

"I'm not a Legilimens," I reply. "And if I were, I certainly wouldn't go near the mind of Sirius Black."

Malfoy snickers softly. "Wise of you."

* * *

The Weasley Twins had been pretty subdued in their pranks last year, following Ginny's death. This year, however, following Halloween, they're back in full force, hitting the Slytherins especially hard. Hardly a day goes by that I don't see one Slytherin or another the victim of a prank of varying levels of maliciousness.

Theatre Club is putting on a rendition of "A Christmas Carol" this year. I'm a little surprised when I hear that it was written by a Muggle. I mean, not that Muggles are exactly inept or anything, but I wouldn't have expected them to know about ghosts and whatnot. Although perhaps I should be less surprised. They apparently made books and movies about my father and grandfather, after all.

Then, it's off for holiday. Caer Danas seems pretty crowded now. Even more members of the Order of the Phoenix have been staying here, with the breakout at Azkaban and all. But there gets to be a point when I just want some time to myself.

I slip out of Caer Danas, take on my adult form, and Apparate to Diagon Alley. This place is also crowded, full of people doing their Christmas shopping, milling about, both cheerful and worried. There's a tension in the air, holiday joy sullied by concern for the future and their safety. There haven't yet been any attacks on anyplace so public as Diagon Alley, and I don't know whether the Dark Lord and his forces are likely to do so. I can't say that these people are wrong to be so worried.

I shake my head a little, and head for Knockturn Alley. This part of wizarding London is darker and less crowded. I can appreciate being away from everyone for a little while. I make my way into a pub, looking for some firewhiskey.

As I'm sitting at a table working on my second firewhiskey, someone comes up behind me and says, "Hello, Lexen. Fancy seeing you here today."

I glance up to see Tom Riddle with his hair dyed blond. "Oh. Hello, Marvolo."

Tom takes a seat across from me. "Haven't seen you here in a while. Did I scare you off?"

"Been busy," I say, shrugging.

"So what brings you here today?" Tom asks.

"Eh," I say. "Had to get out for a bit. I've got entirely too many house guests at the moment, and they're driving me up the wall."

"Family?" Tom says.

"I _wish_ they were all at least related to me," I say. "I don't even _know_ some of these people. I had to get out before I murdered somebody."

Tom laughs softly. "What does it say about you for that to be a legitimate concern?"

I shrug again. "Probably nothing good."

"So," Tom says, lowering his voice and leaning across the table at me. "What were you doing in Azkaban on Halloween?"

So, he did recognize me there after all. Or at least, he recognized 'Lexen'. "Terrible lapse in judgment," I reply, downing my firewhiskey and gesturing for another one.

"You were with _him_," Tom says, scowling at me. "Does he realize what sort of person you are, Lexen?"

"Not really, no," I say.

"You wouldn't have to hide who you are with me, you know," Tom says. "I don't see why you even support him."

"I don't," I reply.

"Then why?" Tom asks.

I snort softly. "I'd really rather not go into it all right now."

Clumsily, I accidentally knock my glass of firewhiskey onto the floor, where it shatters. I grumble and pull out my wand, cleaning it up with a wave and a muttered spell. As I'm sitting upright again, Tom grabs my left wrist firmly.

"Left-handed," Tom says quietly. "And I recognize that wand." He reaches over and brushes my hair away from my forehead. "Hello, Harry Potter."

My heart leaps for a moment in panic. "So, you've found me out after all."

"Aging Potion?" Tom guesses. "Not much of a disguise, is it?"

"Neither is dying your hair," I comment.

"True," Tom says, still clenching my wrist in a vice-like grip. "So, that's why you wanted to kill me."

"No, not really," I say.

"Then why?" Tom asks.

"It's personal," I say, glaring at him, anger welling up inside of me. He tortured me, he controlled me and forced me to kill my friends, he killed me more than once. Perhaps not _this_ him, but some version of him did these things to me.

"I see," Tom says. "Why don't we take this to a more private location to discuss further?" He grins at me darkly.

"No, I don't think so," I say.

Before he can do anything else, I rapidly force my age down until I wink out of existence.

* * *

I wake in my room in Caer Danas, and sigh. A cowardly move, perhaps, but there's no way I'm going to allow myself to be taken captive again. And best that he not find out anymore about me than he's already figured out.

"Dobby!" I snap.

Dobby appears before me. "Yes, Master Harry?"

"Bring me firewhiskey," I say. "A lot of firewhiskey."

"Right away, Master Harry!" Dobby says, vanishing with a pop.

Sometime later, after getting thoroughly drunk, Draco comes into my room and prods me with a foot.

"Harry!" Draco says. "You smell like a brewery. What have you been doing in here?"

I groan softly and peer up at Draco. "One Draco would have sufficed. You didn't need to bring your twin brothers, too."

Draco hauls me to my feet and sits me down in a chair. "Why are you drinking so much? You're thirteen!"

"Because it was better than using hallucinogens that make me see the Dark Lord," I reply.

"I'm not sure if that's much of an improvement," Draco says.

"Besides, I thought I locked that door," I say.

"I Alohomoraed it," Draco says.

"That's grammatically painful," I reply.

"Shut up," Draco says, smirking.

"And anyway, I was drinking in here because if I went out to get drunk in Knockturn Alley, I'd probably wind up getting captured by the Dark Lord," I say.

"I suppose that's sensible, by some twisted definition of sensible," Draco says. "What I want to know is why you felt the need to get drunk in the first place."

"I'm in a house full of people I don't know, who are making war plans over my holiday," I say. "And while I realize this is important and all, it rather leaves me without much of a holiday."

"I see," Draco says. "Well, I suppose that's understandable. Except for the fact that you're being utterly pathetic about it. Spending your holiday getting drunk isn't any better. Get your head out of the gutter already. What would Cassie think if she saw you like this?"

I sigh. "You're right. This is bad. I know."

"You aren't getting a hangover remedy, either," Draco says. "You're going to get a clear reminder of why you shouldn't do this."

"Fine," I mutter. "Fine. Just don't tell Cassie, alright?"

* * *

Another Christmas comes and goes, and between Draco and Cassie, I manage to have some fun and relax a little despite myself.

We've been invited over to a New Year's party at Terry Boot's place. I'm glad to accept. A much less obvious trap than the Malfoys' place, if it's a trap at all. Not that I won't still be paranoid anyway. Still, I'm going to make an effort to have fun and relax.

I haven't been to the Boots' place before. It's not nearly as upscale and spacious as some of the homes I've been in, but it's still pretty nice. The party mainly winds up consisting of several Ravenclaws playing games. I haven't heard of Boggle before, but it seems pretty fun.

"Gorilla! Right there!" Draco says, pointing at the board triumphantly.

Around eight o'clock, Dumbledore shows up, and I start to get a sinking feeling that something might have happened somewhere. After speaking briefly with Terry's parents, he comes over toward me.

"Harry, may I speak with you in private for a moment?" Dumbledore says.

"Of course," I say, following him off to a side room. "Did something happen?"

"The Grangers have been attacked," Dumbledore says.

"Oh, Merlin," I mutter. "Are they alright?"

Dumbledore shakes his head. "The parents, dead of the Killing Curse. Hermione... fared worse."

I feel sick. I haven't interacted with Hermione much in this life, but she deserves better than this. I put out a hand to steady myself against the wall.

"I know you may not know Hermione very well, but-" Dumbledore begins.

"I'll go," I say quickly. "I'll go back."

"Are you sure, my boy?" Dumbledore says.

"Absolutely," I say. "You always ask if I'm sure. But very often, trying to save a friend is the only thing I can be certain of. What time did the attack take place?"

"Very well," Dumbledore says. "We estimate that the Granger residence was attacked between noon and two o'clock. Good luck."

I'm doomed. My luck is never good. I sigh, and give a small nod, and age myself out of existence.

* * *

I wake in my room in Caer Danas. I'm glad I didn't sleep in today. I get up and get dressed, and send a Patronus off to Dumbledore asking him to come to Caer Danas to talk.

Dumbledore meets me in the main hall, where there's a couple other members of the Order up and about already. "Is something going to happen, Harry?"

I nod. "The Grangers are going to be attacked between around noon and two o'clock."

"Who?" Moody asks.

"They have a daughter in my year," I say. "But her parents don't have magic themselves."

"Damn Voldemort, targeting the Muggleborns," Moody says. "We'll stop him."

We set about to making preparations, gathering up the Order, and make our way to the Grangers' house well ahead of the time of the attack.

"What's going on?" Mrs. Granger asks in alarm.

"I'm the Headmaster of the school your daughter attends," Dumbledore says. "We've received information that your home is to be the target of an attack. We are here for your protection."

"Oh, my goodness," Mrs. Granger says. "Come on in, then."

The Order members conceal themselves about the house in order to ambush the Death Eaters. Cassie and I remain near Hermione, not bothering with any disguises. We're in Hermione's year anyway, so why shouldn't we visit her for the holidays?

"Why are they coming after _me_?" Hermione wonders.

"Because you're not 'pure' enough for them," I say, snorting in disgust. "Don't worry. We'll protect you with our lives if need be."

Then, as we're waiting for the time of the attack, the air suddenly gets very warm, and there's a roaring, unearthly sound. Flames burst through the walls and roof of the house, like living things in the shape of dragons, serpents, and demons.

"The house is on fire!" I exclaim.

"Not just any fire," Dumbledore says. "Fiendfyre!"

The Order members frantically try to put out the flames, to no avail as they die screaming, consumed by the Fiendfyre. The flaming monsters seem to chase around its victims, pouncing upon them and devouring them alive. It's not long before the demonic blaze takes me as well.

* * *

I wake with a gasp. Burning to death is never a pleasant way to go.

As I get up and reflexively get dressed, I think about what happened. Obviously, the Dark Lord was watching the house and knew we'd arrived, and trapped us inside with the Fiendfyre. So, instead of catching the Death Eaters in a trap, we wound up being caught in a trap ourselves. Well, that's just lovely.

I send a Patronus message to Dumbledore, and go into the main hall to slump into a cushy chair pensively and wait for him to arrive. I don't have to wait long.

"What is it, Harry?" Dumbledore says. "Is something about to happen?"

"The Dark Lord is planning an attack on the Grangers at about noon," I say distantly. "So we went to go protect them. And he engulfed the whole house in Fiendfyre and killed everyone."

I keep my emotions carefully in check. If I allow them to budge even a little, there's no way I'll be able to think this through logically and reasonably.

"Voldemort laid a trap for us?" Dumbledore says, frowning. "We will need to be cautious."

"We can't let him just kill innocents, though," Emmeline says.

"Of course not," Dumbledore says.

"We can set up positions around the house in disguise, and watch for any sign of dark activity," Moody says.

We quickly get everything set up, with Order members disguised as Muggles to casually walk through the area, or hiding nearby under Disillusionment spells. I Apparate Cassie and I directly into Hermione's house.

"Oh my!" Mrs. Granger says in startlement at our sudden appearance, dropping a book.

"Sorry," I say. "Didn't mean to startle you. We had to come directly in so that they wouldn't see us coming in from outside."

"What's going on?" Mrs. Granger asks.

Hermione pokes her head out of a hallway at the commotion. "Harry Potter? Cassie Black? What are you doing here?"

"We're here to protect you, Hermione," I say. "The Death Eaters are targeting you. We've got friends standing watch outside to back us up."

Hermione pales a little. "Why would they want to target me?"

"You're Muggleborn, Hermione," Cassie says. "That's reason enough."

It's strange how quickly Cassie dropped the whole blood purity thing. Well, she's a good actor, and she fell easily into her role as a half-blood. Whether or not she still thinks any such thing, she wouldn't dare say anything aloud and risk her cover being blown.

Soon enough, there are sounds of battle outside. The Obliviators are going to have a field day cleaning this up. Magical battles in the middle of a Muggle neighborhood. As curses fly outside of the house, Tom Riddle steps in through the front door and approaches us.

"_Protego_," Cassie murmurs, putting up a shield around us.

"Fancy seeing you here, Harry Potter," Tom says.

"_Expelliarmus!_" Hermione cries. "_Stupefy!_"

Tom readily evades her attacks, and hurls her against a wall with a curse. "Foolish girl," Tom says. "You don't really think you stand a chance against me, do you?"

Where's Dumbledore? He's probably outside, fighting. We need him here. Damn it.

"_Fulgoris!_" I shout, shooting a bolt of lightning at Tom. It splashes against his shield and dissipates harmlessly.

"Potter," Tom says. "If you had come by yourself, I would have spared your friends. Now, they all will die."

Cassie and I exchange curses with him, and Hermione collects herself and tries to help as well. But Dumbledore is nowhere in sight, and even with three of us, the Dark Lord still outmatches us. A curse eventually brings me down.

* * *

I wake in Caer Danas, and rub my eyes tiredly. Too many more deaths, and I won't be able to keep at this. I pull out one of the Wideye Potions that Snape had supplied me with, and drink it down. It only helps a little, though. My real problem is magical exhaustion, and fighting hopeless duels doesn't help with that.

I get dressed, take on my adult form, and step outside. I Apparate to the street where the Grangers live, coming in behind a hedge out of sight. This is a terrible idea. What am I even doing? But I'm sick of leading people to their deaths.

"So, Lexen, I was wondering if you would come," Tom says, approaching from around the hedge, wand pointed at me. "Risking yourself for the sake of one Mudblood?"

"What do you want, _Marvolo_?" I say pointedly. "Or would you prefer 'Lord Voldemort'?"

"Ah, so you _do_ know who I am," Tom says, grinning a little.

"I do," I say. "Killing one Mudblood seems pretty passe. What do you _really_ want out of this?"

"I was hoping to kill you and anyone you brought with you, of course," Tom says. "Dumbledore would have been a fine prize."

"I came alone," I say. "Going to kill me now?"

"Not just now, I don't think," Tom says. "I've a few questions for you first."

"Ask," I say.

"How did you know I was here?" Tom says. "I've been watching this house, by myself, for several days, and haven't told anyone that I was doing so, not even my inner circle of Death Eaters. I was considering going in and killing them already and getting it out of the way already, and then you show up. Funny, that."

"I have my ways," I say vaguely.

"Afraid to come out and say it?" Tom says, smirking. "I doubt you're a Seer. I've never heard of a Seer that had seemed to have such clear foresight as you. But perhaps you're simply better at it than that hack, Trelawny. Or perhaps you're using time travel instead, hmm?"

I blanch. Was it that easy to figure out? I've been tipping my hand, giving away the fact that I have future knowledge.

"So, is this the power that I supposedly know not?" Tom says. "Harry Potter?" He grins at me.

I sigh. So there hadn't been any point in me killing myself back in Knockturn Alley before. He'd already figured it out, anyway. "Yes," I say. "I am a time traveler."

"And I'm also guessing that you've found some route to immortality," Tom says. "You put yourself in harm's way, showing not the slightest fear of being killed, despite knowing that you do not have the skill to match me yourself. So, how did you do it?"

"I go back in time when I die," I say. "I didn't _do_ anything for that. I was born with that power."

"I see," Tom says. "Your cooperation has bought your friends' lives. Now, there's one more thing I want to know. _Why_ are you supporting Dumbledore?"

"I'm not," I say.

"No?" Tom says. "Then why were you at his side in Azkaban? Why did he come to your aid at the Yule party at Malfoy Manor?"

"Because _I_ asked him to," I say. "He's not the one in control anymore. I made him bend to what I wanted."

"How did you accomplish that?" Tom asks in amusement.

"A bit of blackmail, and a bit more of goals coinciding, if for entirely different reasons," I say.

"And what are _your_ goals?" Tom asks.

"At the moment, primarily learning," I say. "But I can't abide by anything unfortunate happening to anyone I care about. And if you start up the crap you were doing in the last war, I'm obligated to try to stop you."

Tom gives a nod. "Very well. You have bought your freedom, today."

"You're not going to kill me?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

"I see no point in it," Tom says. "Oh, and don't bother trying to kill yourself in hopes of making me forget this conversation. I've had my suspicions about you for some time, and this only has confirmed it. And if you don't come here, this Mudblood will die. And if you come with friends, all of them will die."

I make a face. "Understood."

"I'll give you fair warning," Tom says. "Don't interfere with my plans, and I will leave you be, for now. But if you do, I _will_ find a way to make you regret crossing me."

I give a nod. Tom Apparates away, leaving me standing there behind the Muggle hedge, heart pounding in my chest. I focus on Caer Danas, and Apparate away. I don't want to splinch myself after all that. And I'm certainly not going to admit to Dumbledore that I had this encounter.

I stagger into my room, and throw a Locking Charm at the door. I slump down into the chair, trembling, shaking. _He knows_. He doesn't quite know _everything_, but he knows enough to make life positively abyssal for me.

"Dobby!" I call out, and the house-elf appears in front of me with a pop. "_Firewhiskey!_"


	12. Coping Poorly

**Chapter 12: Coping Poorly**

"Harry, are you drunk again?" Draco says.

"Ugh," I mutter. "Go 'way, Draco."

"Nuh-huh," Draco says. "I come to collect you for the Boots' New Year's party, and you're sodden like a fish? Quit wallowing like this! What's happened to you that's worth drowning your sorrows?"

"New Year's party..." I mumble. "Gorilla, right there..."

"What are you talking about?" Draco says.

"Go on... leave me here," I say. "Don't feel like any party..."

"Fine," Draco says. "But if you aren't sobered up by the time we get home, I'm going to strip you nude and haul you out in the snow."

"Kinky," I comment.

Draco snorts, and leaves.

I roll over dizzily, and stare at the empty bottle of firewhiskey on the floor beside me. The Dark Lord knows my secret... but he doesn't know that I'm not Harry Potter. I've kept that one carefully under wraps. And yet, if he knew, things probably _would_ be better for me. Ugh. What in the Abyss am I going to do now?

Right now? Nap, I think. Either the Dark Lord will keep his word and leave Hermione alone, or he won't. But it's really disheartening to try to take everyone's lives on my own shoulders. I'll save who I can. I'm sorry, Hermione. I did what I could. I curl up in a fetal position on the floor and close my eyes, and shut out the world.

* * *

"Happy New Year, Harry," says Draco's voice, and I blink up at him.

"Mrrgh," I murmur.

"Gorilla, Harry?" Draco says. "What the hell?"

"Huh?" I say.

"Before I left for the party, you said _gorilla_," Draco says. "And we played Boggle. And... there was 'gorilla'! Harry, are you like, a Seer or something?"

"What are you talking about?" I say.

"That's what I said," Draco says. "And then... gorilla!"

I groan softly. I must have said something while drunk earlier. Well, the Dark Lord knows now, so there's really no sense in keeping it from Draco.

"Draco," I say. "There's something I've been keeping from you."

"Wait, what?" Draco says. "You _are_ a Seer?"

"No," I say. "I'm a time traveler."

"Oh," Draco says. "Is that why you've got top marks in every class except for Politics?"

I nod. "Expect that to change come fifth year, provided I survive that long this time. I've studied some stuff beyond that point, but it's spotty at best."

"And you've been keeping something like this a secret from me for _three years_?" Draco says.

"I didn't want the Dark Lord to find out somehow," I say. "And it was all for nothing, anyway. He found out. He knows. And that... is why I was getting drunk." I sigh.

"Oh..." Draco says, frowning. "Well. How exactly does getting drunk help?"

"It doesn't," I say, kicking the empty bottle aside.

"Maybe you should figure out something that _would_ help, instead of sitting around moping about it," Draco says. "What exactly happened, anyway?"

"He was going to kill Hermione Granger," I say. "I went back to try to prevent it. He Fiendfyred us. I went back again. He killed me again. I went back again, alone this time. He held me at wandpoint and asked me some questions. I answered them. He said he'd spare Hermione and let me go and told me not to interfere with his plans anymore."

"Do you generally die regularly?" Draco asks.

"Sometimes more frequently than others," I say, snorting.

"So, he said he'd leave you alone if you left him alone?" Draco says. I nod. "I don't see what the problem is, then."

"But, what if he does something?" I say. "What if he hurts somebody?"

Draco snorts. "You're too worried about other people. Don't be a Gryffindor that thinks he can save everyone."

"I can't let him get away with hurting anyone I care about," I say.

"The list of people you care about should be somewhat shorter than 'everyone'," Draco says.

"True," I say. "Well, at least you're not just telling me that I'm obviously on the wrong side to begin with."

"I didn't see the need to point out the obvious," Draco says with a smirk. "But it's nice that you can see that, too."

"I'm not going to argue," I say wearily.

* * *

I return to school and pretend that everything is normal. Hermione was fine, so perhaps I _can_ trust the Dark Lord to keep his word. He said he'd leave me be for now, so I try to relax a bit. There's no sense in worrying about things I can't change.

To distract myself from things, I bring out the _Codex Veritatum_ again and try to delve into it. It's very dense and arcane, difficult to understand. Maybe it would help if I knew more Arithmancy, perhaps? No, I don't think it's Arithmancy that's the problem. And I know Latin well enough to at least read it. It just still doesn't make sense no matter how I look at it.

_Omnia semper sunt quae umquam sunt. Omnia sunt quae possunt esse. Omnia possibilia sunt. Ergo omnia sunt._ "Everything always is that ever is. Everything is that can be. Everything is possible. Therefore, everything is." How does that even make sense? That hurts my head.

The Book of Truths is so named because all things are true. There is no one, single, universal truth.

"What're you reading?" Cassie asks, coming up to me. Yeah, I'm reading ancient texts in the Ravenclaw common room. And nobody's batting an eye.

I don't answer her. I just close the book again and slide it over to her. Cassie's eyes open wide as she realizes what it is.

"This... this is genuine?" Cassie says. "Where did you get this?"

"Slytherin's secret library," I mutter.

"There was a point when I would have killed to read this," Cassie says.

"Have at it," I say. "It makes no damned sense to me."

Cassie suddenly leans over and gives me a smooch on the lips. "Have I mentioned yet that I love you?"

I blink at her in surprise. But before I can manage to stammer out a response, she grabs the _Codex Veritatum_ and runs off. Well. That's going to start some more rumors. I can see Morag tittering over off to the side.

This term, the Theatre Club is putting on "The Fountain of Fair Fortune". Professor McGonagall makes a point that this time, no Ashwinders will be used in the performance. Who would use an Ashwinder in a stage production?

The _Daily Prophet_ seems to be taking a turn for Muggle hate. It publishes a number of articles discussing how dangerous and violent Muggles are. It discusses the sorts of weapons that they use, like firearms and bombs. Far from being afraid, I find myself interested and excited. I never realized Muggles had come up with such things. I want to learn about them!

I see about owl-ordering some fascinating books on the subject. While the ones I can get my hands on easily are written from the perspective of wizards, there's still some interesting things to be found. Like a comparison with ingredients regularly used in potions with the chemicals used in Muggle explosives. And how to duplicate the effects of Muggle explosives using common, household potions ingredients.

"Potter, _what_ are you reading?" Snape asks, hovering over me suddenly.

I'd brought the book out in Potions class to make some comparisons. Maybe that wasn't such a great idea after all. "A book, sir," I reply.

Snape snatches up my book and looks it over. "While I can appreciate the extra devotion you're putting into studying Potions, I question the direction of your extracurricular studies. See me after class." He carries my book away and puts it on his desk.

After class, Snape drags me into his office and slaps my book down in front of me. "Have I done something wrong, sir?" I ask innocently.

"Potter, are you planning to blow up the school?" Snape wonders.

"If I were intending on doing so, I'd like to think I'd have the common sense to be a little more subtle about it," I say. "And I'd also need to do some serious research into wards, to see what would actually be capable of doing significant structural damage. Regardless, such destruction would be counterproductive. I still have a lot I want to learn here, after all."

Snape gives me a long look, and then throws the book at me. "Since you're so intent upon giving yourself extra work, then I want to see a roll on the material you are studying. Due tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," I say.

"And I don't want to see you letting yourself get distracted in class again," Snape says. "Pay attention to what you're doing."

"Yes, sir," I say. "Sorry, sir."

"Dismissed."

* * *

Easter at Caer Danas. The place is even more crowded than usual. Tensions are running high, and there's talk of how the Dark Lord might be taking over the Ministry one position at a time. People who disagree with his views too vehemently have a tendancy to just disappear, or to find themselves rapidly reconsidering their options.

"Harry," Dumbledore says. "I've just received a report that a well-respected Ministry official has gone missing. Dirk Cresswell, head of the Goblin Liaison Office. Came to work this morning and never came back from lunch."

I give him a look. "And what do you expect me to do about it?"

"Is there any chance that you could go back and make sure he's alright?" Dumbledore says. "This is a very important position, and if it were to fall into Voldemort's hands-"

"No," I reply firmly.

"Cresswell is Muggleborn," Dumbledore says. "He could be in grave danger."

"Is this really worth it?" I say.

"I believe so, yes," Dumbledore says.

I sigh. "Fine," I say reluctantly, shaking my head a little. I age myself down and blink out of this timeline.

* * *

I wake, get dressed, and head out to the main hall. Dumbledore is already there. I go up to him and say quietly, "Keep an eye on Dirk Cresswell. He could be in danger. But do it _quietly_."

Dumbledore gives a nod. "I appreciate the warning."

"You'd better," I say. "These warnings may wind up costing more than you realize."

Before Dumbledore can say another word, I stalk out of the house. I take on an adult form of around twenty years old, and Apparate to Knockturn Alley. I want to be away from all of these people. All of these strangers that I do not know or trust.

I head into my favorite pub and order a firewhiskey. I'm not here to get drunk. I'm not foolish enough to get drunk in public. But it's quiet, and relaxing. I just hope Tom Riddle doesn't show up to interrupt that. Actually, scratch that. I don't really care at the moment.

"Firewhiskey for breakfast?" Tom's voice says, approaching my table. "Not having a good holiday, Lexen?"

"Do you have a contingency spell over that doorway set to go off whenever I pass through it or something?" I wonder.

"It would be a shame to miss a chance to see you drowning your sorrows, as pitiful a sight as that may be," Tom says.

"I'm not drowning my sorrows," I reply. "I'm just relaxing. Getting away from the crowd for a bit. There are _way_ too many people in my house. They're driving me insane."

"Oh?" Tom says. "Who is there?"

"The Order of the Phoenix," I mutter. "A bunch of random people I don't know or trust. I hate holidays. I've taken to warding the hell out of my damned bedroom, or I'd never get any sleep."

"Why do you stay there, then?" Tom wonders.

"It's _my_ house," I say.

"Where is it?" Tom says, grinning. "I could take care of the problem for you."

"I wouldn't tell you even if I could," I say. "It's under the Fidelius Charm, and I'm not the Secret-Keeper. Guess you'll just need to find a rat, then, huh?" I smirk.

"I'm surprised that you'd joke about that," Tom says.

I shrug. "I'm not sure that I care anymore, anyway."

"Tell me," Tom says. "How old are you really?"

"Older than I look, younger than I feel," I say.

"How many times have you done this all?" Tom asks.

"Too many and not enough," I say. "I don't think I want to do this ever again. And if Dumbledore tries to drag me into this shit again, I'll kill him myself. I didn't even want to do this all _this_ time."

"Are you a _chatty_ drunk, Lexen?" Tom says wryly.

"Apparently," I say, emptying another glass of firewhiskey. "And I'm not drunk. Just slightly intoxicated. I'm not stupid enough to get drunk in public."

"How long were you hoping to attend Hogwarts for?" Tom says.

"I was kind of hoping to be able to complete my NEWTs for once," I say. "I've never made it past fourth year before."

"Have another firewhiskey," Tom says. "On me." He gestures for one to be brought over.

"Thanks," I mutter, taking a drink. "Although if you're trying to get me drunk enough to babble out all my secrets, there's some things I'm not silly enough to tell you no matter what."

"Like what?" Tom says, grinning.

I smirk at him. "I'll give you points for trying, not so much for subtlety."

"So, this power of yours," Tom says. "You can clearly go all the way back to the beginning. But other times, you clearly haven't. What's the difference? Can you choose how far back to go?"

I drink my firewhiskey and don't answer.

"Because when I had you in my hands after my resurrection, I was able to capture you then," Tom says. "You didn't avoid that outcome. I would assume if you could have, you would have."

I put down my glass and give him a long, hard look. I've got to admire his intelligence, that's for sure. But that isn't necessarily good for me.

"Don't feel like chatting anymore?" Tom says. "Alright, let me put it this way. Answer my question and I will spare Dirk Cresswell. Acceptable?"

My eyes widen in alarm. Does he know somehow that I came back today? Did he manage to capture Cresswell anyway even with my warning? "Give me a minute, please," I say. "I'll be right back."

"Of course," Tom says. "I'll just warn you that if I don't have an answer by sunset, the Mudblood will die a horrible death."

"Understood," I say, sighing. I step outside into the alley behind the pub. "_Expecto Patronum_," I say, focusing my thoughts upon the rainbow after the storm. My duck Patronus appears. "Take a message to Dumbledore. Ask him the status of Dirk Cresswell." The duck nods and zips off.

I lean against the wall unsteadily, waiting for a reply. I try to focus upon staying calm. It's probably a good thing that I'm good enough at Occlumency to do it even while drunk. The storm that protects my mind stays up even when I'm not thinking about it or concentrating on it.

After a bit, Dumbledore's phoenix Patronus appears before me and speaks in his voice. "Dirk Cresswell was taken by Death Eaters. We were unable to keep them from getting away with him. I'm sorry."

I sigh, and send my duck to give a reply back, "Thank you. I'll take it from here."

I turn to go back into the pub again. Tom hasn't moved, and is still sitting at the table I'd recently vacated. I go and sit down across from him again.

"So, what'll it be?" Tom asks.

"I'll answer your question," I say. "But this is the last one. No more threatening other people to try to get me to do things. You want something of me, come after _me_. Alright?"

"Fine, fine," Tom says lightly. "So tell me how your power works. How far back can you go, and under what circumstances?"

"I don't choose how far back to go," I say. "I go back a day at most, under normal circumstances. If I die from the Killing Curse or the gaze of a basilisk, I go back to the summer of 1991."

"Fascinating," Tom says, grinning broadly. "Very well. As per our agreement, I will have Dirk Cresswell released."

"And you won't harm him on another day," I say.

"Certainly not," Tom says. "Farewell, Lexen. It was nice chatting with you." He heads out, whistling to himself.

"I think I need another firewhiskey," I mutter, then shake my head. I've had quite enough as it is. I go to head out myself and Apparate home while I can still Apparate straight.

"Harry, there you are," Dumbledore says as I stumble into the main hall of Caer Danas. "Where did you go? What's the news on Cresswell?"

"He should be alright," I say. "If he's not, I'm going to fucking kill myself and try again."

More importantly, to _not_ have that conversation with the Dark Lord if he's going to start going back on his word. Strangely, however, I think I can trust him. Better than Dumbledore. That's a really depressing thought. Tom's never lied to me or broken his word. Dumbledore has.

"Harry?" Dumbledore says, sniffing at me. "Have you been drinking?"

"Yes," I say, giving him a challenging look, wondering if he's going to make something of it.

"You really shouldn't Apparate while intoxicated," Emmeline says. "It's dangerous."

"I _really_ don't care," I say.

I head into the dining area for some lunch. Dobby gleefully serves up more food than I could possibly eat at the moment. I try anyway. Later, as I'm leaning back in the chair, unable to stomach another bite, Dumbledore comes in.

"Dirk Cresswell has been returned safely," Dumbledore says. "I would ask how you managed to accomplish this."

And I don't care to tell him. "Magic," I reply with a smirk. "I'm just glad that he's safe. Maybe I'll even get a chance to meet him."

"He is here, in fact, wanting to thank you in person," Dumbledore says.

Someone else let in on the secret without my knowledge. "Fine, send him in," I say.

Dumbledore leaves, and a moment later, a man of maybe thirty comes into the room. "Harry Potter?" he says, looking at me in surprise. "I thought you'd be younger."

"Oh, that," I say. I age myself down to thirteen again. "I can change my age at will."

"Oh, really," Dirk says. "That's interesting. Well, I wanted to thank you. You saved my life. I believe I owe you a... life debt?"

"Yes," I say. "You do." I give him a hard look. "You have no idea what this cost me."

"I apologize for any price you may have incurred on my behalf," Dirk says. "I'll do my best to make it up to you, I swear."

"I wouldn't ask for anything else," I say. "Happy Easter, Dirk. Do you have a family?"

"A wife, three sons," Dirk says.

"You won't be in any further danger," I say. "But if you don't feel safe returning home regardless, you are welcome to bring them here." I mutter, "Merlin knows everyone _else_ is here."

"Thank you," Dirk says. "I appreciate it."

* * *

I'm glad to get back to school after Easter holidays. Even though I'm sleeping in a room with four other boys. Well, I'm sure Draco would never do anything, Michael wouldn't dare, and Stephen just plain doesn't care. And will tell you very loudly and frequently how much he doesn't care.

Tensions are rising about Muggles, but it's just fear and suspicion at the moment. Nothing substantial. And even whatever the Dark Lord was doing with the Ministry has died down. Perhaps he doesn't want to do too much, too fast. I can't just stop caring about what happens to other people, even strangers, although it would make things a lot easier on me if I could. I'm glad that I can spend a while not feeling guilty about people I've never met.

This year's classes have been harder, but I'm still making progress on being able to cast more and more spells wandlessly. I also haven't stinted on learning a few new spells as well, under Cassie's tutelage. She insists on practicing dueling with me when we can spare the time.

"You aren't just doing this for my benefit, are you," I say. "You want practice as well."

Cassie smirks, and gives a nod. "If we're looking to go up against the most powerful dark wizard alive, we'd _better_ both push ourselves as far as we can go."

"I don't know if, no matter what we do, we'll be able to just take him in a straight fight," I say.

"Maybe not," Cassie says. "But I'm not about to give up without trying, not now that I'm in this fight."

When I get back to my dorm later that evening, Draco asks me, "So were you off snogging Cassie again?"

I give him a look. "We were _sparring_."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Draco says.

I snort softly and go to bed.

* * *

Summer approaches. I'm not looking foward to it. Two months of being stuck in a house with people I don't know. I'm considering either shutting myself in my room for the duration, or finding someplace else to go. Maybe even Grimmauld Place. Perhaps not the most pleasant place to go, but I'm sure nobody would look for me there, on either side.

I get top marks in all of my classes this year, except for Politics, which is still an acceptable score. I've even managed to keep my Potions grade up.

"I expect your Politics grade to improve next year," Malfoy says to me.

"Yes, sir," I say.

"You have a good deal of natural charisma, but you don't hold well under pressure," Malfoy says.

"I will try to make that better, sir," I say.

"See to it that you do," Malfoy says. "Otherwise, you will find yourself crushed and broken, left whimpering and begging for mercy beneath the heels of those with the will to do harm to you and no compuncture about what they might do to cause it."

"Sir, are we still talking about Politics?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

"Dismissed, Potter," Malfoy says.

Back at Caer Danas for the summer, there are even more people packed into the place than there were before. A family has even moved into the room I was using as my own. I stare at them in surprise and dismay when I go in looking to be by myself for a bit.

"We're terribly sorry," says the mother. "We didn't realize this was your room. We'll go-"

"No," I interrupt. "Stay. I don't care."

I turn on my heel and leave the room, stride down the hall, and out the back door. This isn't my damned house anymore. I'm getting out of here.

I Apparate to the doorstep of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, and step inside. Nothing immediately tries to keep me out or attack me, but the place still feels unpleasant. And yet, for all of that, I'm more comfortable here than among the crowd of strangers back at Caer Danas.

"And who might you be, young man?" says Walburga Black's portrait. "Someone to despoil the house of my fathers with dirty blood?"

"I'm a pureblood, Lady Black," I say. "And I'm looking for refuge here. Dumbledore and his damned Order of the Phoenix have taken over my house."

"Why do you let them?" Walburga wonders.

"Good fucking question," I say, sighing. "It's gotten out of hand now. If I'd known things were going to go this way..." I shake my head. "Lady Black, may I take sanctuary in the noble house of your fathers?"

"Might I ask who you are?" Walburga says.

"I am Harry Potter," I reply.

"Harry Potter?" Walburga says in confusion. "Wait, wasn't your mother a Mudblood?"

"No," I say. "Lily Evans was actually the descendant of an old pureblood line, but nobody realized that until after she was dead."

"Oh!" Walburga says. "I knew she was too good to really be a Mudblood! Very well, Harry Potter. You are welcome within the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black."

"Thank you, Lady Black," I say, giving a suave bow toward the portrait.

I continue on inside. It doesn't take long before I run across Kreacher as well, the raggedy old house-elf poking about and peering at me suspiciously.

"What's this?" Kreacher says. "Trespasser, in the house of Black?"

"Lady Black's portrait welcomed me in," I say. "Do please go and ask her about it, if you would. I don't really wish to repeat myself right now." I restrain myself from snapping at him too badly. No matter how annoyed I am at the moment, it wouldn't do for a first impression to be rude to him.

Kreacher narrows his eyes at me, then pops away.

I look around the house a bit. I'd forgotten what a terrible state it had been allowed to fall into. Worse than Caer Danas, despite not having been empty for as long. Well, I'd rather deal with doxies than crowds of strangers. The Dark Lord probably already has spies on the inside as it is, what with Dumbledore letting in anyone and everyone.

"So," Kreacher says, appearing again. "You are a guest in the House of Black. I suppose you will be wanting food?"

"I would appreciate it, if it wouldn't be too much trouble," I say. "And if you have a moment, a place where I could sleep where I wouldn't be bitten by doxies would be much welcome as well."

"Of course," Kreacher says reluctantly.

I absently eat the food Kreacher brings to me, and let him lead me off to one of the bedrooms. He's done a quick clean-up of the place while I was eating dinner, so it's at least some definition of livable at the moment.

Before I go to sleep, a phoenix Patronus appears in the room and speaks with Dumbledore's voice. "Harry? Where are you? Are you alright?"

Of course he wouldn't let me out of sight for long without wondering about me. I think wearily of the rainbow and summon a faint Patronus. "I'm fine, Dumbledore. Don't worry about me. Don't send anyone to look for me, please. I just wanted to be by myself for a bit."

With that, I put up some protections around my immediate sleeping area, and go to bed. I think I won't mind spending the summer here.


	13. Happy Birthday

**Chapter 13: Happy Birthday**

The next morning at breakfast, a raven Patronus flies into the room and speaks in Cassie's voice. "Harry? Dumbledore said you were hidden somewhere safe and not to look for you. But I know you, and I think you just ran off to get away from everyone around here. And especially not to hide from _me_. Where are you? I'm alone right now. You can reply safely."

I grin at her, and summon my duck patronus. "Tell Cassie I'm at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place." The duck obediently darts away into nothing.

I finish eating, and head out into the entry hallway, where Cassie is currently talking to Walburga Black's portrait.

"Ah, there you are, Harry," Cassie says, smiling at me and coming over to give me a hug. "I just finished explaining to my niece that I'm _not_ actually the bastard half-blood daughter of a blood traitor, no matter what I look like."

"I'm sure that went over well," I say, smirking. I wave to Walburga and head back down the corridor. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

Cassie shakes her head. "There were too many people around. Dobby can't keep up with them all."

"Kreacher," I say, poking my head into the kitchen. "Would you kindly get some breakfast for Cassie, too? We've got an actual Black staying here now." I grin.

Kreacher perks up immediately, and says, "Right away!"

Cassie settles in readily enough, and I'm happy to have her here. And I realize that I'm actually _happy_ for the first time in quite a while. I can actually relax, and don't need to think about all the bad things that have plagued this life.

Cassie claims Regulus's old room, while I'm staying in Sirius's. Kreacher diligently works on cleaning up the house, pleased to no end that a pureblood Black is living here again.

"It's been a long time since I've been in this house," Cassie says. "I do occasionally miss France, though. But I think I was there too long."

"I miss Master Regulus," Kreacher says quietly.

"Whatever happened to Regulus, anyway?" Cassie wonders.

"He died, years ago," Kreacher says. "Gone... And poor Kreacher could not even fulfill his last order." Kreacher hangs his head in despair.

"What did he order you to do?" Cassie asks.

Kreacher goes over and shows us a glass cabinet in the drawing room, and points in at a locket marked with a snake-like green S. "Master Regulus ordered loyal Kreacher to find a way to destroy that locket. But Kreacher could not do it. Brave Master Regulus died for this trinket... it must have been very important."

I frown a little. "It looks very Slytherin. I wonder if it belonged to Salazar himself?"

"Could be," Cassie says, looking it over carefully but not touching it. "But then why would Regulus want it destroyed that badly? I don't understand."

"Kreacher doesn't know," the house-elf says. "Master Regulus just gave the order. He did not explain it. Is there, perhaps, some way that Mistress Cassie might be willing to help poor Kreacher carry out his master's last orders?" Kreacher looks at her pleadingly.

"I'll see about doing some research," Cassie says. "But I just might be able to."

Kreacher beams brightly. "Wonderful!"

* * *

July 31st. Harry Potter's birthday. I'll celebrate it like my own, since I really can't be bothered to calculate when my actual chronological birthday might be anymore. I know that I'm approximately twenty-five years old. That's close enough for me.

Draco is over to visit for a small, private party. Kreacher has made me a lovely, rich chocolate cake, with the words "Happy Birthday" written in blue letters. Owls have brought presents from all of my friends.

"That looks delicious," Cassie says, smiling.

"It _is_ delicious," I say as I take a bite. "You've really outdone yourself this time, Kreacher."

As I eat my cake, a silvery phoenix Patronus appears in the room. "Headquarters under attack," says Dumbledore's voice. "Secret is exposed. Stay away. Not safe anymore. I don't know what happened. Fiendfyre! Go back! Go back, save us!"

There's a clatter as Cassie drops her fork, gaping at the spot where the Patronus was, stunned speechless.

"Oh, Merlin," I utter.

"Harry..." Cassie whispers.

"I've got to go," I murmur. "I can't- I can't just let this stand..."

Cassie grabs my wrist and says intently, "_Harry_..."

"I'm sorry, Cassie," I whisper. "You know I'd take you with me if I could." I lean over and give her a soft kiss. "It's up to you now..."

"I'll... I'll do what I can," Cassie says.

I smile sadly at her, and will myself younger until I'm gone.

* * *

I wake in my bed in Grimmauld Place. What a birthday. So much for being able to relax and enjoy things. I get dressed and go downstairs.

"Cassie," I say, looking at her sadly. "There's... the headquarters is going to be attacked today. They need to be warned."

Cassie gives a nod. "Let's go."

I can't argue with the sentiment of wanting to go with me, much as I'd like her to stay here where it's safe. I look to Kreacher and say, "We may or may not be back again."

"Good luck, Mistress Cassie, Master Harry."

Yep, definitely doomed. We Apparate to Caer Danas and head inside. Dumbledore seems to be in a bit of a meeting in the main hall as we approach.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore says. "I'm glad to see you've returned. Happy birthday."

I shake my head. "Can we speak in private for a moment?" I lead him off out into the garden, peering about for anyone that might be listening.

"Is something the matter, Harry?" Dumbledore asks.

"The house is going to be attacked at two o'clock this afternoon," I say. "There's a spy on the inside. They used Fiendfyre..."

"Do you have any idea who the spy might be?" Dumbledore says, frowning.

I shake my head. "I'm afraid I have very little information right now."

"We can't just evacuate everyone if there's a spy," Dumbledore says. "We must find who it is, and quickly."

I nod. "I'll see what I can do to ferret them out."

"I will, as well," Cassie says.

We head back inside and split up, looking amongst the crowd for anyone that seems suspicious or out of place. I poke into room after room, and then I see him, plain as day. Blond Tom Riddle, sitting alone in the front entryway, casually reading a book.

I come inside and cast a wandless privacy spell. "Hello, _Marvolo_."

"Hello, Harry," Tom says. "Happy birthday."

"How did Dumbledore not see right through your disguise?" I wonder.

"I came in with a batch of refugees," Tom says. "Fed them a sob story about being unable to prove my mum was a witch. The old goat never even looked at me twice."

I snort in amusement. I glance at the open archway leading into the main hall and say, "Why don't we take this outside?"

"Certainly," Tom says.

The two of us step out of the front door and into the front yard. A cobblestone walkway winds its way between small shrubs blossoming with flowers, and a tall hedge marks the perimeter of the property.

"Mind if I tell Cassie she can stop looking, before she stirs anything up?" I ask.

"Go ahead," Tom says.

"_Expecto Patronum_," I murmur, summoning my duck Patronus. "Tell Cassie, the situation is resolved. I'll meet up with you back home if I can make it." The duck nods and zips off into the house.

"I always thought that was a peculiar and inefficient means of sending messages," Tom comments absently.

I shrug. "So, what exactly led to the idea of burning down my house?" I ask.

Tom doesn't look the least bit surprised. "Are you upset about that?"

"You _burned down my house_," I say, not sure whether to laugh or scream.

"It's not like you have been here much lately," Tom says. "And you did express displeasure at your house guests."

"That's no excuse for burning down my house," I say. "And there _are_ people here that I still care about."

"Clearly not enough to have spent your birthday with," Tom says.

I stare at him silently. "I hate you for having a point. But, why not just kill the people inside, instead of burning down the house?"

"Risky," Tom says. "I may be the greatest dark wizard alive, but I'm not foolish enough to risk taking on every witch and wizard in this building, including Dumbledore, by myself. Or would you prefer that I poison them instead?"

"What's to stop me from exposing you to Dumbledore?" I ask.

"Do you trust Dumbledore?" Tom asks.

Now there's the question. "Not so far as I can kick him," I reply. "But that's not the point."

"I could be burning down this house again before you can breathe a word to him," Tom says. "And don't even think about going back again to warn him. I _will_ know."

I can't even be certain that he's bluffing. He did seem to know whenever I showed up in Knockturn Alley, after all. I don't know _how_ he knows, but perhaps it would be best to assume that whatever I might do, he'll find out about it somehow.

"You said you'd leave me alone," I say quietly.

"Provided that you did not interfere with my plans," Tom says. "And I have. I even did you the courtesy of waiting until your birthday, when everyone you might possibly care about would likely be with you instead of here, seeing as _you_ haven't been here. You cannot deny me the opportunity to wipe out so many of my enemies in one fell swoop."

"You..." It's hard to dispute that. "You still burned down my house."

Tom chuckles softly. "Fine, if you're so attached to the place, I'll poison them, then. I'll even clean up the bodies afterward."

I sigh. "Look. No matter how annoyed I am for taking over my house, they're still people, many of them are _good_ people. Some of them are children. Innocents. I can't stand by and let you do this."

"So, you intend to interfere after all?" Tom says, giving me a hard look.

"Do you _want_ to destroy magical society?" I say.

"If I destroy it, it is only to rebuild it better," Tom says.

"You can't do that if you're killing children, though," I say. "Especially when wizarding society is barely starting to recover from the _last_ war. Bad enough that so many families aren't really helping matters by only having one child, or other people not having any at all."

"Fighting with words now?" Tom says, grinning at me.

"I know I can't possibly defeat you in actual combat," I say.

"I'll be sure to tell Lucius that you deserve extra credit for a summer Politics project," Tom says. "But, go on. I'm listening."

I take a deep breath. "One year of Politics didn't exactly prepare me for debating with the damned Dark Lord."

"But you're doing so well at it so far," Tom says, grin broadening.

"Right..." I say. "So. If you're looking to rebuild society by your own wishes, the best way to accomplish that is to take over the education of the children, and thereby mold the next generation to the way you desire."

"An excellent suggestion, Harry," Tom says. "So, are you proposing murdering Dumbledore?"

I pause for a moment. "I'm apparently arguing what would actually make you successful, not what I would want you to do. Although I'd really find it hard to care if you just killed Dumbledore and nobody else. He's not exactly helpless nor innocent. It's not _my_ job to protect him."

Tom chuckles. "And what would you want me to do?"

If my hallucinations are any indication, I apparently want him to drag me off and ravish me. But there's no way in the Abyss I'm saying _that_. "Not burn down my house, for starters?"

"Why did you blush?" Tom wonders, cocking his head at me.

"Ah, fuck," I mutter.

"Is _that_ it, hmm?" Tom drawls, grinning at me again.

"If you keep grinning at me like that, I'm going to commit suicide from humiliation," I say.

"But then you'd have to convince me not to burn down your house all over again," Tom says.

"I'm used to it," I say.

Tom chuckles. "It's a strange situation, isn't it? The prophecy claims that neither of us can live while the other survives, and yet we're both immortal in our own ways."

"Who gave that prophecy, anyway?" I ask.

"Trelawny," Tom says.

I snort loudly. "_Trelawny?_ Seriously?"

"I know, right?" Tom says, smirking.

"Trelawny has a habit of diligently and unerringly predicting many possible ways I could die," I say. "Not all of them actually happen. And sometimes I die in ways she didn't anticipate. The future isn't fixed."

"Still," Tom says. "You know I'm only leaving you be until I can figure out a way to rid myself of you permanently. Hmm, perhaps the Dementor's Kiss would work..."

I immediately tense up. "I'd really rather you not try."

"And why should I not?" Tom says. "I have no desire to risk being 'vanquished', even if the prophecy was only something that _may_ happen rather than something that _will_ happen."

I close my eyes for a moment and let out a ragged breath. "I'll turn the Killing Curse on _myself_ before I let you do that."

"I have my doubts that you can cast the Killing Curse at all, never mind against yourself," Tom says dryly.

"You don't want to risk the _possibility_ that I might 'vanquish' you," I say. "I don't want to risk the _possibility_ that you might find a way to find a way to kill _me_."

"Well, I can certainly understand that," Tom says. "Would you kill one person to save your own life?"

"Of course," I reply without hesitation.

"Would you kill a million people?" Tom goes on.

"I'm not that kind of person," I say.

"We've already established that you _are_ that kind of person," Tom says, grinning at me. "Now we're just haggling over the price."

I give him a long, hard look. My heart is pounding, my blood racing in fear, in panic. "Are you trying to back me into a corner?"

"Oh, just wondering what you might do if your very existence were at stake," Tom says, almost idly.

There's only one truthful answer I can give. "If my very existence were at stake..." I reply slowly, "...then the whole world can burn."

"Now, I think, we're speaking the same language," Tom says. "You are not a self-sacrificing fool. I can appreciate that."

As much as I might feel guilty for it, my desire for self-preservation outweighs all other concerns. I've gotten used to the idea of immortality. I _like_ not being able to die. The thought of ending all that, frankly, terrifies me. There is so much I want to do, and learn, and experience. And when I've done it all, I want to go through and do it all again.

"But right now, I will only ask for one life in exchange for your own," Tom says. "That's fair, isn't it? One life, and I will generously grant you another year of peace. I won't even burn down your house or anything."

"Who's life?" I ask.

"Dumbledore," Tom says. "Help me kill Dumbledore."

I let out a ragged breath. I find myself trembling. I bear no hate for Dumbledore. He's a good person, and has been helpful toward me. But I have no desire to meet a permanent death for his sake. I could say I have no choice, but there are always choices. I can kill myself right now, and avoid this situation in any number of ways, not the least of which by making myself start over again.

This life is a mess. But I see no good reason to end it now. So long as I can avoid anything that would do permanent harm to me, it's alright. Life will go on, one way or another. I'll stick through it, and see where this path might lead.

"I agree," I reply.

"Excellent," Tom says, grinning darkly at me. "Bring him here. I'll be waiting for him."

I give a terse nod and turn to head back into the house. I steel my heart for what I'm about to do. My mind is still reeling. But I carefully make my expression a mask, to give no hint as to what's going on in my head.

Dumbledore is sitting in the main hall, sucking on lemon drops. "There you are, Harry. Cassie said you'd resolved the situation?"

"I found the spy," I say quietly. "But I'm going to need your help with dealing with him now. Would you accompany me, please?"

"Of course," Dumbledore says, climbing to his feet and following after me. Following me to his doom.

I pull out my wand, clenching it in my left hand and trying to stop it from shaking. Some part of me is screaming that this is wrong. But it's drowned out by my desire to _live_. Even if Dumbledore dies here today, he'll still be alive in another timeline, after all. But what will happen to me if someone finds a way to stop me from going back? There might be other Lexens that still live somewhere, perhaps, but that won't matter to _me_.

We step out the front door. Tom is standing in the grass in a casual dueling posture, wand in hand, about fifty feet away.

"Hello, Dumbledore," Tom says lightly. "Did you not recognize me with my hair dyed?"

"Tom," Dumbledore says, raising his wand and dropping into a dueling stance himself. "You won't get away with this."

"Get away with what?" Tom says. "I haven't even done anything yet." He laughs aloud.

The two of them start exchanging spells. I don't know which of them might win in a one-on-one fight. But that was not what I promised. I told Tom that I would help him kill Dumbledore, and Dumbledore won't expect me to betray him.

I don't hate Dumbledore. But I can. I concentrate my thoughts on rage and hatred, letting fury boil in my veins. I think on how Dumbledore gave a child into the hands of abusive Muggles, and how that child subsequently died tragically. Such a pointless waste of life. I focus my emotion into the point of a deadly blade.

"_Avada-_" I growl.

Dumbledore stops and looks at me in alarm, and realizes that my wand is pointed toward him. But he's too slow to react.

"_KEDAVRA!_" I scream.

A flash of green light bursts from my wand. Dumbledore is too close to dodge. The curse strikes him straight on.

Dumbledore falls to the ground, a look of shock forever frozen on his face.

I stare at the corpse for several long moments. A man who helped me, and who I betrayed. As it slowly sinks in just what I've done, tears start to well up in my eyes unbidden. I blink them away. I focus, and force myself to remain calm for the moment. I can break down later.

"I didn't ask you to kill him yourself," Tom says. "But I'll take back my doubts that you can cast the Killing Curse."

"He's not the first one I've murdered," I say. "And he doubtless won't be the last." I compulsively lean down to look through his possessions, and snatch up his wand and put it in my bag.

"You've earned some respect, Harry Potter," Tom says.

"Harry Potter is dead," I say, turning away. "My name is Lexen Chelseer."

I don't really care, at this point, whether he takes that literally or figuratively. I bring to mind Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, and Apparate away before he might respond.

Once inside, Cassie comes running, and hugs me tightly. "Harry! I was a little afraid you wouldn't come back."

I smile weakly at her. "Cassie, would you go and fetch Draco, please?"

"Certainly," Cassie says, heading out.

I go into the dining room and curl up in one of the seats. I pull out Dumbledore's wand and stare at it, thinking of the terrible crime I've just committed, and for what? For my own survival. I allow the tears to flow, sobs wracking my body. I didn't have to do this. But in the end, I chose to. _I'm sorry, Dumbledore_.

Why could I kill him, when I couldn't bring myself to kill Tom? I don't know. I don't understand my own mind sometimes.

Perhaps, if he had known what was coming, he would have willingly given his life in order to spare all those others who might have been threatened. A self-sacrificing fool? Is that foolishness, or nobility? Am I a terrible person for refusing to do that? For refusing to risk my own existence for the sake of what might be good and right? Maybe it's easier to give one's life when you know you're going to die sooner or later anyway.

"Harry?" Cassie says, coming into the room. "Are you alright?"

"Who's wand is that?" Draco says, coming in behind her.

"Dumbledore's," I murmur softly.

"Dumbledore's?" Draco repeats, raising an eyebrow. "What are you doing with Dumbledore's wand?"

I let out a ragged breath, still trembling, still crying. "Today I murdered Dumbledore for the Dark Lord," I choke out. "Happy fucking birthday to me."

Draco and Cassie gape at me. "Holy... _shit_," Draco utters.

"Harry...?" Cassie says.

"Not Harry," I say. "Lexen. Call me Lexen. Not Harry. Never again." I don't really care to explain it all to them at the moment, but I don't want to hear that name anymore. I took on the role of Harry Potter for Dumbledore's sake, and it has brought me nothing but grief. With Dumbledore dead by my own hand, I have no right to bear that name any longer.

"Lexen?" Draco says, then shrugs. "If you say so. I want to know what you're crying over. You decided to follow the Dark Lord after all, but now you're going to feel all guilty about it?"

"I killed Dumbledore," I say. "That doesn't mean I won't mourn his death. What kind of a monster would I be if I could no longer feel remorse?"

"The kind that isn't constantly being angsty about one thing or another," Draco says. "You're _always_ trying to be depressed about _something_. But I swear, if you spend the entire next year moping, I _will_ kick your ass."

I snort softly. "Yeah," I say. "Please do. Thanks, Draco. That's why I keep you around." I smirk at him. "But let me mourn today, at least."

"It's your birthday," Draco says. "Mourn tomorrow."

"Kreacher made cake?" the house-elf says, gingerly putting a large chocolate cake on the table, with the words 'Happy Birthday' on it.

"Thanks, Kreacher," I say, forcing a smile at him. "You're a dear."

"You've got presents," Cassie says, setting out gifts wrapped in brightly colored paper before me.

I put Dumbledore's wand away in my bag. I don't like holding it. It feels attuned to me, even as my own does, but has a very different flavor. Darker, heavier. Powerful, but it's a power bought by death, paid for in blood. I'll keep it, but I don't know that I'll ever want to actually use it.

I don't know if today was a victory or a defeat. Perhaps it was both. Success and failure wrapped up in one little terrible package. Like a birthday present of lemon sherbets.

I take a bite of delicious chocolate cake, but it's like ashes in my mouth.


	14. The Headmaster

**Chapter 14: The Headmaster**

A wolf Patronus bounds into the dining area of Grimmauld Place and says in Remus's voice, "Harry, are you alright? Where are you?" He sounds panicked. They must have found out what happened to Dumbledore.

"_Expecto Patronum_," I murmur, focusing upon the thought of the rainbow after the storm, and my duck Patronus shimmers into sight. I suppose it's a good sign that I have good enough mental control to summon a Patronus even now. "Tell Remus I'm fine. I got away. I'm at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place."

Draco grunts. "So much for having a nice party."

"Reality is knocking again, it seems," I say. "Shouldn't be surprised. Alright, Theatre Club time. We're completely innocent and know nothing about anything."

"I'm good at that one," Draco says.

"No you're not," Cassie says, smirking.

I get up to go out and meet Remus, in hopes of preventing any unpleasant reactions from Walburga's painting. He hasn't come alone, but with Sirius Black as well.

"Why _here_ of all places?" Sirius is grumbling as he steps inside.

"You!" Walburga shrieks. "Blood traitors and half-bloods, polluting my house with filth!"

"My apologies, Lady Black," I say quickly. "But I must speak with them for short while. They will doubtless not be remaining here long."

"Go soak your head, Mum," Sirius snaps at the painting. "It's not like I _wanted_ to come back here."

Walburga starts screaming at him some more, and I sigh and drag them past into the parlor where Cassie and Draco are waiting. No help for it at the moment, I suppose.

"What happened?" Cassie asks, putting on an act of seeming worried.

"Harry..." Remus says. "I don't know how to break this to you, but... Dumbledore is dead."

"Oh, Merlin," I gasp. "What happened after I left?"

"Voldemort got him," Sirius says, scowling. "Someone saw the flash of the Killing Curse out the window, but by the time anyone could get out there, Voldemort was gone."

Draco puts on an admirable look of stunned silence. Cassie says, "Oh my... What's going to happen now?"

"This is terrible," I say. "I always thought Dumbledore could have taken him on in a straight fight..."

"We don't know what happened," Remus says. "Maybe Voldemort caught him by surprise. There weren't any signs that he was struck by any other curses."

"The Order's in a state of chaos," Sirius says. "I know it's your birthday and all, but you might want to come back and help deal with this. They might listen to _you_."

I take a deep breath and put on a brave, resolved face. "Alright. I'll see what I can do." I look over to my friends. "Cassie, could you take Draco home?"

"No way," Draco says. "I'm coming with you."

I glance over to Kreacher, who is grumbling about Sirius in the corner, and say, "Thanks for the cake, Kreacher. It was delicious. I'll be back later."

We Apparate back over to Caer Danas and head inside. The people in the house are shouting, running around in a panic, some of them looking to be packing quickly to flee the place. The actual members of the Order of the Phoenix appear to be making some sort of effort to organize things and calm everyone down, but are doing a poor job of it.

I step into the middle of it as though I own the place. Well, technically I _do_. And if I'd really been in charge here in the first place, none of this would have happened. Well, with my luck, something _worse_ might well have happened, but at least then I'd only have myself to blame for it all.

"Quiet!" I shout. Eyes around the room turn toward me. "Listen up! Panicking isn't going to help matters any. I want everyone out of this house by tomorrow, but you can do it without falling over one another."

"But if this place isn't safe anymore, where else can we go?" asks a woman I don't recognize.

"Go _home_," I say. "This could have all ended in disaster. You realize that if the Dark Lord wanted you all dead, he could have done so easily? Instead, only Dumbledore is dead. You know what that says to me? He's _not targeting you_."

"But..." says a wizard I don't know.

"No buts," I say. "I will guarantee your safety if you return home now." Please don't make me a liar, Tom.

There's still fear and doubt in the wake of my words, but I _did_ manage to calm things down somewhat. People continue to work to evacuate in a somewhat more sedate manner.

"You really need to learn _Sonorus_," Cassie murmurs to me.

I start casting spells left and right, in the guise of helping people pack and clean up. But what I'm really doing is making sure that my Killing Curse won't show up on Prior Incantato. I'm too paranoid to let myself get caught out in something like that, even if I doubt anyone is likely to suspect me anyway.

As quickly as we work, they aren't all ready to move out by the end of the day. It's three days before all of the unwanted house guests are gone from my home. I continue sleeping over at Grimmauld Place until they're all gone.

The morning after my first night back at Caer Danas, I get up, get dressed, and head downstairs for some breakfast. There, at the dining table, is Tom Riddle, casually eating pancakes. I stop still in the doorway, gaping at him in shock.

Tom looks up from his plate and over at me, looking vaguely amused. "Are you just going to stand there staring, or are you going to join me for breakfast?"

I snap my mouth shut and stop gaping with a deliberate effort. "I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"Did you want me to evacuate too?" Tom asks innocently.

"I- gah," I stammer.

"What's going on?" Cassie wonders, coming up behind me. "Who- oh, it's you."

Tom casually forks another bit of pancake into his mouth. "Good morning. Are you going to come and eat? Dobby made plenty."

"Oh, to the Abyss with it," I grumble, and go to sit down instead of standing around gaping like a fish. "Dobby! Two more plates, please."

"Right away!" Dobby says gleefully.

Cassie shrugs and goes to sit down as well. "I must admit that you're not quite what I would have expected, given the rumors of the last war."

"That's not surprising," Tom says. "I'm _not_ the same me who fought in the last war. Not exactly."

"What do you mean?" Cassie says as Dobby puts another plate of pancakes in front of her.

"I was resurrected from a diary that was created when I was sixteen years old," Tom explains. "I was frankly shocked when I discovered how far I had later slipped into madness. I had long since lost sight of my original goals and motivations."

"So, wait," I say. "Does that mean you don't remember anything that happened after that point?"

"I didn't initially," Tom says. "I later claimed that ragged, pathetic scrap of soul that was calling itself Lord Voldemort, and forcefully merged with it. He wasn't even still strong enough to gain control."

"I see," I say.

"What's going on here?" Remus demands, standing in the doorway and staring in a much more hostile manner than Cassie and I had.

"_Obliviate_," Tom mutters quietly before I even noticed he had his wand pointing at Remus. "Ah, hello, Professor Lupin. I was hoping to speak with you. I am Tom Riddle, the new Headmaster of Hogwarts. Is Professor Black around? I'd like to speak with him as well."

I really don't like seeing my friends Obliviated. I scowl a little at that, but I say nothing.

Remus blinks for a moment as his modified memory settles in. "Ah, Tom Riddle. It's a pleasure to meet you. Sirius is still asleep at the moment, I'm afraid. It's a wonder he's willing to get up before noon for his classes. I'll go and get him, though, if you want."

"Please do," Tom says, and Remus goes and leaves the room.

"What did you do to him?" I ask quietly once Remus is gone.

"I just made him forget the tiny detail of 'Tom Riddle is Lord Voldemort'," Tom says. "I did the same with the Weasleys and anyone else I could find that knew about it and was likely to react poorly."

I can't argue about _why_ Tom would want to do that, whether I like it or not.

"_You're_ the new Headmaster?" Cassie says.

"Indeed," Tom says, grinning. "And it would be most inconvenient if anyone realized that, wouldn't it?"

Remus comes back shortly, with a still-sleepy Sirius in tow. "Bah, what was worth getting up so early for?" Sirius grumbles, rubbing his eyes and clearly not even seeing Tom yet.

"_Obliviate_," Tom whispers discretely. "Ah, good morning, Professor Black. I wished to discuss staffing and curriculum for the upcoming year at Hogwarts. I apologize for the inconvenience. Please, have a seat."

Remus and Sirius sit down, and Dobby also brings them some pancakes. "Dumbledore's loss is a heavy blow," Remus says. "But it's good that a new Headmaster has been selected so quickly, especially one as well-regarded as you. I would have expected you to be older, though."

"There are more people sitting at this table who _aren't_ as old as they appear to be, than those who are," Tom says wryly.

"You know about that?" Remus says, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course," Tom says, smiling. "I'm well-acquainted with these two."

"I see," Remus says. "So what did you wish to discuss? You still want me to stay on as Battle Magic teacher, right?"

Tom shakes his head. "I think you'd do better with Magical Creatures, honestly."

"What about me, then?" Sirius says.

"Sirius, you _know_ you only took a teaching position because you were bored," I say. "And you grabbed the first opening that popped up."

"My reports indicate that you were attempting to teach the Patronus Charm last term," Tom says. "While being unable to cast it yourself. And you'd brought in a Dementor which very nearly Kissed a student."

I put my face in my palms. "Oh, Sirius."

"Well... maybe that wasn't the best way that could have been handled," Sirius says sheepishly.

"I'm also told that you are repeatedly late for your early classes, and sometimes don't even bother to show up at all," Tom says. "You also don't even seem to look at your students' papers, and simply give them all top marks, no matter how poorly they're doing. Except for the Slytherins." He narrows his eyes at Sirius.

"They were being little prats in class!" Sirius protests.

"I'm afraid this is unacceptable behavior for a teacher," Tom says. "However, if you still wish to be part of the Hogwarts staff, I am certain that I can find another position for you."

"Sirius, I told you you're not cut out for teaching," Remus says.

Sirius grumbles dejectedly, and spears his pancake viciously.

"On the other hand, you, Professor Lupin, I have received nothing but complimentary remarks regarding," Tom says. "However, I understand that you require time off every month, which might lend itself better to an elective rather than a core class."

"Er, yes," Remus says. "There is that. I would be just as capable of handling the Magical Creatures class. And I _can_ cast the Patronus Charm, but I would not be foolish enough to bring something into class which I could not handle myself."

"Of course," Tom says.

"So who is going to teach Battle Magic, then?" Remus says.

"I have a few names I'm considering for the position," Tom says. "But I'm open for recommendations."

"Barty Crouch, Junior," I say.

"Wasn't he sent to Azkaban?" Remus says. "For being a Death Eater?"

"He was cleared recently, even as someone else at this table was," Tom says, looking at Sirius.

"Yeah, but didn't they clear any of the Death Eaters that _weren't_ so far-gone that they were babbling out their crimes constantly?" Sirius says.

I snort softly. "He was a good teacher," I say. "I wouldn't suggest him otherwise."

"Well, if you say so, Harry," Sirius says, shrugging.

"I'll be certain to look into your recommendation," Tom says, smiling at me. He finishes up his breakfast and stands up. "I hate to eat and run, but I have a lot of work to do. I must finish solidifying the curriculum in order to give everyone a chance to buy the books and materials that they may need."

"Are there going to be many changes?" I ask.

"Probably not," Tom says. "I can't imagine that Trelawny's students will be all that disappointed that her class has been canceled, however. Except, perhaps, that they might now need to actually take a useful elective instead. Perhaps I should see about introducing a few more options. There's such a pitiful selection of electives at the moment."

"I could teach one!" Sirius suggests. Tom pins him with a look. "... maybe?"

"Don't get your hopes up," Tom says. He gives a casual wave and heads out.

"He seems like an intelligent, competent fellow," Remus says. Sirius is still grumbling. "Oh, do relax, Padfoot. It's not like you really wanted to be a teacher anyway."

"Barty Crouch Junior," Sirius grumbles. "_I_ could have taught Battle Magic, too!"

"That seems like an even worse idea than you teaching Magical Creatures," I comment dryly. "And there probably won't be a Pranking Club, either."

"I wonder if there will be any interesting new electives," Cassie says thoughtfully.

"We already _have_ three electives, Cassie," I say.

"It was a thought," Cassie says.

"Perhaps we should be more concerned about what will happen with the Order of the Phoenix and the war with Lord Voldemort now that Dumbledore is gone, than with the electives in school," Remus says. "You two have already been through it all anyway, after all."

"I've only been through fourth year!" I say. "And with some different teachers, I'm getting all sorts of new material already, anyway."

"Education is very important," Cassie says. "Knowledge is power, they say, isn't that right?"

"I suppose," Remus says. "Well, with Sirius having more free time now, he can help with the Order of the Phoenix more, I suppose."

Sirius grumbles some more.

After breakfast, Cassie takes me aside to talk to me in private. "Do you think we can trust him?"

"Probably," I say.

"You know I'll be right behind you no matter what you decide to do," Cassie says. "Whichever side you choose to follow."

"I'm less interested in sides, and more interested in _people_," I say. "And I think I've had quite enough of killing myself for the sake of people I don't even know."

"Good," Cassie says. "Call me selfish, but I think I'd rather keep you to myself." She grins at me.

I chuckle softly, and say, "I won't hesitate to kill myself to save _you_, Cassie."

She grabs me and presses her lips against mine hard. You know, I think I could get used to this. I'm very... comfortable with her.

* * *

Tom hasn't quite moved in, but he certainly spends a lot of time around my house. I wonder what he finds so fascinating about it. Or me. At least he's not trying to kill me or anything.

New letters arrive by the end of the week. There's one major difference. Apparently, Muggle Studies is now a requirement for wizard-raised children, and a new Wizarding Culture class has been added for Muggle-raised children. I must admit, I'm more than a little surprised at that.

"Looks like we'll be learning about Muggles this year," Cassie says. "I probably don't know nearly as much as I should as it is."

I just have to wonder exactly what a Muggle Studies course directed by the Dark Lord might teach. Maybe I'll get to learn more about Muggle weaponry. That could be fun.

At least I have too many other things on my mind to take the time to be depressed of late. I've been caught completely off-guard, and I have no idea where my life is hurtling toward now. It's all I can do to hang on for the ride.

One morning, I have another private chat with Tom over breakfast. "So, you've gone back to using your birth name, now?"

"Funny thing," Tom says. "I had an epiphany."

"Oh?" I say.

"I always hated my name, you know," Tom says. "I always thought it was such a common, filthy, _Muggle_ name. It didn't help that my mother could not be more creative than simply naming me after my father."

"So what happened?" I wonder.

"I realized how childish I was being," Tom says, chuckling. "And how stupid 'Voldemort' sounds. And... French. Why _French_? Past me clearly had no taste."

"Better Muggle than French?" I say wryly.

"Exactly," Tom says. "Tell me, where did the name Lexen Chelseer come from?"

"It's my name," I say. "The name I went by until I came here when I was ten."

"You were raised under a different name?" Tom says, raising an eyebrow. "It must have been difficult to adjust to being Harry Potter at first, then."

"At first," I say, shrugging. "I'm used to it now."

Dumbledore is dead. There's no reason to keep this a secret anymore. I could only benefit from Tom realizing that the prophecy wasn't even about me in the first place. But how am I to tell him that?

I sigh, and look around to make sure nobody else is skulking about, making sure the privacy spells are still up. "I'm _not_ Harry Potter," I say in barely more than a whisper anyway.

Tom raises an eyebrow at me. "What do you mean?"

"Do you know the Naming Charm?" I say. "Sirius said it was fairly obscure."

Tom frowns a little, and points his wand at me. "_Nomino_. Lexen Chelseer? How did you get it to magically change your name like that?"

"Lexen Chelseer is my actual birth name," I say. "I'm not a Potter at all. I'm actually, well, Harry Potter's second cousin on his mother's side."

"You're... not the real Harry Potter at all?" Tom says. "Why were you willing to put yourself in harm's way for that by impersonating him?"

"Dumbledore convinced me to," I say, sighing. "He didn't bother telling me what the prophecy was at first. But it was all to save his own reputation. The real Harry Potter died at the age of five years old. Dumbledore left him with his abusive Muggle relatives, who hated anything to do with magic, apparently. And, well..."

Tom's red eyes flash in anger. "Forcing a magical child to live with Muggles is a terrible thing to do. And this was how he treated his supposed savior? The one who was to have the power to vanquish me?"

I give a nod. "This isn't the first time I've been Harry Potter. I wasn't even going to do it this time. But Dumbledore dragged me into it again. I made him agree to change the Hogwarts curriculum to my satisfaction before I would agree to anything. That was the reason why there was Politics and Battle Magic. He refused to just call it 'The Dark Arts'." I snicker softly.

"You would have wanted Hogwarts to teach a class in the Dark Arts?" Tom says, raising an eyebrow. "You're full of surprises."

"You're more surprised about that than the fact that I'm not even the one the prophecy was talking about?" I say, smirking.

Tom gives a shrug. "I'm _disturbed_ by the fate of Harry Potter more than anything else. But... it sadly does not surprise me at all that Dumbledore would do this."

"Does that mean you'll quit trying to kill me now?" I ask.

Tom chuckles. "I already stopped trying to kill you."

"That's a relief," I say.

Tom grins broadly and leans close to me. "Not that that's my _only_ interest in you."

There's the sound of a throat clearing from the doorway. I glance over to see Cassie, looking somewhat cross.

Tom sits up straight again and says, "I really should be going now. Much work to do." He gives a casual wave and leaves, Cassie glaring at him until he's gone.

* * *

"Say," Draco says. "Are you two going to the Quidditch World Cup?"

"I'm really not interested in Quidditch, Draco," I say. "You know that."

"Ah, come on," Draco says. "My father got the best seats in the place, too!"

"Hmm, maybe it could be fun," Cassie says. "I've never been to a Quidditch World Cup before."

I can't help but think of the unpleasant circumstances of the last Quidditch World Cup I attended in another life. I'm sure that none of that will happen this time, but I'm still not sure that I want to go, regardless. Still, I let myself get dragged along, since Cassie seems so enthuasiastic about it.

"It'll be great!" Sirius says.

"We really should be concentrating on other things," Remus says quietly. "And not sporting events. We're going to need to keep our eye out to make sure nothing happens at the game. It's not just going to be a fun outing."

"Oh, relax a little," Sirius says. "I haven't been to a professional Quidditch game in forever!"

The Order of the Phoenix puts forth a lot of precautions around the game, and I think every last one of them is there somewhere. I run into Tom there as well, in the top box along with my party.

"Fancy seeing you here," Tom says. "Nothing like a good game of Quidditch, hmm?"

"I'm just here for the food," I say, ignoring the fact that Cassie is glaring at him. She finally huffs a little and goes to take a seat without me.

Tom comes up close and casts a quick privacy spell around us. "I see the Flaming Chickens are out in force today. Funny, if someone were actually _planning_ something today, it would be an excellent opportunity to do it anywhere but here."

He gives me a wicked grin, leaving me wondering if he's indeed planning something or not. But before I can ask, he cancels his spell and goes to take a seat, leaving me to go and take my own next to Cassie.

Cassie grabs onto my hand and mutters, "He's way more interested in you than is healthy."

The game proceeds without incident, and especially without any random Death Eater attack on the campground at night. I find myself a little worried about what he might have meant about something going on elsewhere.

But, the next day's _Daily Prophet_ doesn't mention any unfortunate events, nor the day after. He must not have been planning anything after all, and was just making a wry comment, I suppose.

And then the bells go off in the main hall. Dumbledore must have refined the contingency spell on it, since they haven't been ringing when people have been coming and going constantly. I head out the back door to see who it is.

Standing in the gazebo is Tom Riddle, holding Hermione Granger's arm reassuringly. She looks a little beaten and burnt, and her face holds a rather stunned expression.

"Ah, Harry," Tom says. "I don't suppose you would mind another house guest?"

"I don't see any house here..." Hermione says. "Oh, is it hidden by magic?"

I give a nod. "Rispy!"

The elf appears. "Another guest? Alright. The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is at Caer Danas. Except it's not actually anymore, and I don't know why this is still even necessary."

"Wow, that's a big house," Hermione says, stumbling along inside. "The Order of the Phoenix? Oh, I read about them."

"They aren't here anymore, though," I say. "You heard about Dumbledore, I presume?"

Hermione gives a nod. "It's terrible news. But Headmaster Riddle has been good to me. He... he saved me."

"What happened?" I wonder. "Are you alright?"

"There was a horrible accident in the underground," Hermione says.

"Hundreds of Muggles dead," Tom says.

"And you _saved_ her?" I say, looking at him a little incredulously.

"He couldn't save my parents," Hermione says quietly, looking at the floor. "But he risked his life to pull me out of the burning wreckage! He's so brave..."

Tom squeezes her shoulder. "Now, there's no need for flattery. With my magic, I wasn't in _that_ much danger. I'm sorry about your parents, though." He almost manages to make that last bit sound sincere.

Hermione gives a small, distant nod. "It was an accident. Nobody could have foreseen something so horrible would happen."

She isn't looking at Tom, but I'm guessing from the look in his eyes that this was no accident at all. I just have to wonder why he went to the trouble of killing so many Muggles, but went out of his way to save Hermione. I don't feel like I even know this new Dark Lord.


	15. A New Hogwarts

**Chapter 15: A New Hogwarts**

Summer comes to an end, and we go to King's Cross Station to take the Hogwarts Express back to school for another year. Hermione's still pretty quiet after the recent death of her parents, and I supplied her with Dreamless Sleep potion the first couple nights.

"I'm going to go sit with Neville and Dean," Hermione says. "Thank you for letting me stay at your house, Harry."

"You're welcome anytime," I say. "See you in class."

I spot Luna in a compartment by herself, and go in to sit with her, Cassie and Draco coming along with me. I mutter a wandless privacy spell, just _knowing_ that Luna is likely to spout off something incriminating.

"Hello, Stormseeker," Luna says dreamily. "Who did you murder over the summer?"

I smirk. "Hello, Luna. Nice to see you again, too. I briefly teamed up with the Dark Lord in order to oppose the Rotfang Conspiracy."

"Oh, I see," Luna says lightly. "Seeing a different Lord of Magic as Headmaster will be interesting. But there will be so many nargles..."

When we arrive at school, we come in and watch the Sorting. I'm hardly paying attention to who is being sorted where at this point. I don't even know most of these people. My attention is drawn more toward the staff table. There are some unfamiliar faces there, and a few that are surprising. Narcissa Malfoy? Is she teaching something now?

"Hmm," Luna says, looking up there as well. "Dumbledore always had a lot of wrackspurts around him. They aren't even going near Headmaster Riddle."

Following the Opening Feast, Tom stands up and says, "Welcome to all to another year at Hogwarts. I am your new Headmaster, Tom Riddle. As you may have noticed, we have had some curriculum changes this year. Allow me to introduce our new and returning teachers. Professor Lupin will be teaching Magical Creatures. Professor Crouch is now teaching Battle Magic instead. Professor Quirrell is returning to teach Muggle Studies once again, now a requirement for all wizard-raised children. Narcissa Malfoy has generously come to teach Wizarding Culture, now a requirement for all Muggle-raised children, to help integrate them into our society. And we have a new teacher for History of Magic this year as well. Allow me to introduce Gellert Grindelwald."

There's a flurry of whispers and murmurs about the room at this announcement. What's this about? Should I know who this is?

"Yes, that's right," Tom says. "He has been given special dispensation to teach here in order to commute his prison sentence. He will not be permitted to carry a wand. And if any of you here today do not know who he is, that's a sure sign that a new teacher for History of Magic was sorely needed."

"I wonder how he ever managed to swing _that_," Cassie murmurs.

"This is going to be an interesting year..." Draco says.

"Am I missing something?" I say. "Who is Grindelwald?"

Everyone within earshot gives me a look. "Seriously?" Draco says. "You have no idea?"

"Should I?" I say dumbly.

Draco snorts in amusement. "No, no, I think I'll leave that to _him_."

* * *

We start in with classes. There's a subdued tone hanging over the school following Dumbledore's death. But since nobody seems to know that Tom Riddle is actually the Dark Lord, nor that it was me who killed Dumbledore, they don't have any immediate target for their feelings.

I'm kind of dreading my first class of Muggle Studies, now that I know Quirrell will be teaching it. I really hope that he isn't going to be stuttering his way through everything.

"So," Quirrell says, looking over the class. "How many of you have ever had a Muggle Studies class before? Oh? Some of you here actually took it as an elective? Imagine that. The rest of you are, what, purebloods, and half-bloods who have had little to no exposure to the Muggle world, am I right?"

"Yes, sir," murmurs the class.

"You're fourteen years old, and you know not half so much of the world as you think you do," Quirrell says. "You've all been looking at the magical world as if that's all there is. Or that Muggles are merely the barbarians flinging spears outside the gates of civiliation. Can anyone tell me how many Muggles there are in the world? Does anyone care to take a guess?"

"Ten thousand?" Draco suggests.

"Ten thousand!" Quirrell exclaims, snorting. "There are only ten thousand wizards in all of Britain! Anyone else have a better guess?"

"A million?" suggests Blaise.

"No," Quirrell says. "Keep going."

"Ten million?"

"A _hundred_ million?"

"A billion?" suggests Neville.

"Don't be ridiculous," says Draco. "There couldn't be a billion Muggles in the world."

"In fact," Quirrell says. "There are five and a half billion Muggles in the world."

"That's impossible!" Draco cries.

"A single one of their cities could swallow up the entirety of the wizarding world," Quirrell says. "And their population continues to grow, while we fight pointless wars with one another and destroy our own future."

I'm a little terrified of the fact that Tom was clearly listening to me. When I spouted off all those things I said to him, I never expected him to _listen_, nor to actually do anything about it.

"In the last century, Muggle technology has improved by leaps and bounds," Quirrell goes on. "You may not think much of it. You see their automobiles, their contraptions you don't understand, and think them to be just simple little toys. You may not realize that, within as little as a decade, it may become _impossible_ for us to hide any longer."

"But they don't have magic," Draco says. "What could they possibly do without magic?"

"In 1876, they came up with a device that could allow them to instantly communicate with others across the world," Quirrell says. "These devices are now _ubiquitous_. 1903, they built a machine that could fly despite being made of metal. Now, large aircraft can take people all over the world. In 1945, they activated a weapon that killed hundreds of thousands of people. Then they put a man on the moon in 1969."

Draco has shut up by this point, clearly re-evaluating his ideas of what is "possible" or not. As for me, I'm fascinated. I had always thought that magic was the only way to accomplish much of anything. But Muggles don't know about magic, and they don't view its lack as any sort of handicap. And they have accomplished things that we cannot achieve even _with_ our magic. I want to learn more.

"And do you realize that anywhere you walk in the Muggle world, you could be being watched by cameras?" Quirrell goes on. "That even if you Obliviate any witnesses, there might still be recordings? How long until we cannot hide any longer? How long until our spells are not good enough to keep them from realizing that we're here? We _must_ know what we're up against, and we must be prepared."

As we head out of class, one of my classmates says, "That was so completely different from the Muggle Studies I took last year. Professor Burbage always treated Muggles like something quaint to be studied like ants. Professor Quirrell seems to treat them like an enemy to prepare for war against..."

"Aren't they?" Draco puts in.

"Muggles sound _dangerous_," Neville says.

I, on the other hand, have to imagine to myself all the ways that I could kill Sedder, the one who killed my family and destroyed my future, with Muggle technology that he would never have prepared for himself.

* * *

"Welcome to History of Magic. I am Gellert Grindelwald, here to teach you so that you may never repeat the mistakes that I made. It is my hope that none of you might ever wind up defeated by one who was once a friend, and locked up in a prison you built yourself for fifty years."

"You were Dumbledore's friend?" Draco asks.

"Oh, yes," Grindelwald says. "We were quite close at one point. Once, we might have even sought to rule the world together, for the sake of the greater good. But now? I am a broken and defeated man, in no state to rule anything any longer even if I still wished it."

It's hard to imagine that this frail old man, without a wand, could be a threat to anyone any longer.

"Up until a few short weeks ago, I longed for death to finally come and claim me, and free me from the walls of my prison," Grindelwald says. "That I am able to stand here before you today is a miracle beyond hope. I am grateful to have been given the chance to seek some penance for the crimes of my youth."

I can't imagine being locked in one place for fifty years. I would probably have killed myself long before then, or driven myself mad trying to escape one way or another.

"I'm afraid that I must apologize, however," Grindelwald says. "I know little about teaching, lesson plans, or any of that, and I'm still adjusting to having even some semblance of freedom again, and speaking with other people. So please forgive that our first lessons will probably primarily consist of my ramblings of old stories."

"I hadn't even heard of you before this term," I admit.

"This certainly beats Goblin Rebellions," Terry mutters.

Grindelwald spends the remainder of the class going on about his rise to power and eventual defeat at the hands of Dumbledore. As we get out from class, he calls me into his office to speak with me in private.

"You're Harry Potter," Grindelwald says. "The boy they say defeated Lord Voldemort as an infant?"

"So they say," I reply neutrally.

"And no doubt bound to fight him later..." Grindelwald says. "Now that he has apparently returned, I imagine he'll be wanting revenge upon you. You'll have your work cut out for you if you want to defeat him. Especially now."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I heard about Albus Dumbledore's death," Grindelwald says. "I don't know that I can bring myself to be upset about _that_, all things considered. But if Voldemort killed Albus, that would mean that he now has the Elder Wand."

"What's that?" I ask.

"One of the Deathly Hallows," Grindelwald says. "I was fascinated by them in my youth, and I'd even managed to get my hands upon one of them. I stole the Elder Wand, also known as the Deathstick, or the Wand of Destiny, from the wandmaker Gregorovitch, who was studying it, and stunned him to gain mastery of it. It's a powerful wand, said to be impossible to defeat in a duel, although the legends are clearly exaggerated." He gives a bitter laugh.

I knew the wand I'd taken from Dumbledore's corpse was powerful. I could feel that much just by touching it. But that it's actually a legendary artifact? I peer about and mutter a privacy spell, just in case. I'm paranoid.

"You're not upset about Dumbledore's death?" I say.

"I've long since stopped being sad about what our friendship came to," Grindelwald says. "And once I yearned for revenge upon him for what he did to me. But I'd given up even on that by the time I was released."

I hesitate about telling him. The fewer people who know the truth, the better, after all. "Tell me more about the Elder Wand."

"Its origins are shrouded in legend," Grindelwald says. "The first known master of the wand was Antioch Peverell. According to legend, the Elder Wand was fashioned by Death himself, and given to Antioch. Whether this is true or not is a matter open for debate. Antioch was murdered in his sleep, and since then, the wand has cut a long and bloody path across history."

"And the Deathly Hallows you mentioned?" I ask.

"Three artifacts said to have been given to the Peverell brothers by Death himself," Grindelwald says. "The Elder Wand, the Cloak of Invisibility, and the Resurrection Stone. It's said that the one who unites the Hallows will become the Master of Death."

"What does that mean?" I wonder.

"No one knows for sure," Grindelwald says. "It's never happened before."

"What makes the Cloak of Invisibility different from just any invisibility cloak?" I ask.

"It provides nearly perfect invisibility, and its power will never fade with time," Grindelwald says. "A normal invisibility cloak will become opaque with age, compromised by rips and tears and other spells."

Could I possibly have that one, too? The cloak I have belonged to James Potter, so it's hardly new. I have no idea where he got it from. Has it been passed down through his family for generations?

"And the Resurrection Stone?" I ask.

"Said to be able to return the dead to life," Grindelwald says.

"I see," I say thoughtfully. "Legends are all well and good, but I have to wonder what the truth of the matter is with regards to these three items."

"Who can say?" Grindelwald says. "I would have liked to have studied them, but even the wandmaker Gregorovitch was unable to unlock the true secrets of the Elder Wand and duplicate its power."

"Regardless, were you trying to give me advice on fighting the Dark Lord?" I say.

"Or perhaps to leave fighting him to those who are older and more experienced than you," Grindelwald says. "If he could take down even one of Albus's skill, perhaps he is worthy of the title."

"If I were to seek to attempt to defeat him, I'd be more interested in finding a way to defeat whatever means he used to gain immortality, than about whether or not I could beat him in a duel," I say. "And frankly, I'm not really interested in fighting him at the moment. I'm interested in learning."

"But how long until he deems you a threat and comes for you?" Grindelwald says. "How long until he demands revenge for his defeat years ago?"

"I don't know if he could have defeated Dumbledore in a fair fight," I say.

"Did he not do so?" Grindelwald says. "What form of foul play did he employ against Albus?"

To the Abyss with it. Taking risks is far more interesting, and it's not like Grindelwald is a threat in his current state. I could always get Tom to Obliviate him if need be. I give a wicked grin and pull out the Elder Wand from my bag.

"Wait... is that?" Grindelwald says in startlement, staring at the wand.

"Tell you a secret, Grindelwald?" I say. "_I killed Dumbledore._"

Grindelwald gapes at me. "How? You're just a boy!"

"I am more than I appear to be, and less than I wish to be," I reply enigmatically. "I couldn't have defeated him in a fair fight, either. I caught him by surprise with the Killing Curse while his attention was on the Dark Lord. He never saw my betrayal coming."

Grindelwald stares at me. "What manner of boy _are_ you? All that I have heard from the other teachers is that you are a model student, never breaks rules, never gets in trouble. Clearly, you are good at hiding your true nature. Even Durmstrang found my experiments to be too much for them, and expelled me. If they had any idea about you..."

"I have many secrets," I say, grinning. "Who knows what exactly lies behind the mask?"

"You remind me a little of myself," Grindelwald says. "And where might _your_ future lead? Here, look at this."

Grindelwald points toward a picture on the wall of a snow-covered castle. As I gaze at it, wondering what I'm supposed to be seeing, I feel something strike my back, and I go sprawling. I barely keep hold of the wand, and tumble over to see Grindelwald, holding a chair. Before I can get off a spell, he slams it into me again.

Faster than I thought the old man could move, Grindelwald snatches the wand out of my hand and binds me in conjured ropes. "To think that, not only could I have a chance at freedom, but the Elder Wand finds its way back to me once again," Grindelwald says, looking at the wand almost in awe.

"Sorry, but I'm not going down that easily," I say, building up the rage needed to cast my signature spell. "_Fulgoris!_"

Lightning bursts from all around me, striking everything in the room. Electricity rips painfully through my body. Hurt too badly. Too much pain. Can't move. I charged my spell up too much, and it has killed me as well.

* * *

I wake in the Ravenclaw dorm. Right, I will _not_ be letting Grindelwald find out that I have the Elder Wand. Probably best that no one finds out about it.

Making sure the curtains are still wrapped around my bed, I picked up my bag and pull the Elder Wand out of it. It still feels like it's connected to me, acknowledging me as its master. Either it recognizes that I killed Grindelwald again and won its allegiance back, or it isn't as savvy about Time as my pine wand is.

I go through my classes again, and this time, when Grindelwald calls me into his office to try to warn me about the Elder Wand, I keep my mouth shut about who really killed Dumbledore.

"Thank you for the warning," I say. "I appreciate it. Perhaps it would be best if you didn't say anything about the Elder Wand in your lectures? Dumbledore never mentioned that he even had it. I've certainly never heard of it before today." Not that that's saying much, since I hadn't even heard of Grindelwald before this term.

"Yes, perhaps," Grindelwald says. "I doubt he even realizes what he has, if he even thought to take Albus's wand from him at all."

"If that will be all, sir, I should be going," I say. "My friends are waiting for me."

"Yes, of course," Grindelwald says. "Run along, then."

I head out to meet up with Cassie and Draco for dinner. "What did Grindelwald want to talk to you about?" Draco says. "Merlin, that still sounds weird. _Grindelwald_ teaching History!"

"Oh, just some stuff about the Dark Lord," I say, shrugging. "Nothing much."

Draco seems to take that at face value, but I can tell by Cassie's look that she isn't fooled that easily. She doesn't press me about it right now, though, at least.

After dinner, I take Cassie aside in private and tell her all about what happened, and my suspicions that I apparently have two of the three Deathly Hallows.

"Definitely a good idea not to tell him too much," Cassie agrees. "As for the Hallows, well, I'm familiar with the story, and legends generally have some basis in fact. But I really doubt that _Death himself_ actually made these items. And what does the Master of Death even mean? You arguably already _are_ the Master of Death, in a way."

"I'm not exactly going out of my way to track down the Resurrection Stone," I say. "I wouldn't even know where to begin, anyway."

* * *

That weekend, Tom calls me into the Headmaster's office.

"Yes, Headmaster?" I say politely. "You wished to see me?"

"Not precisely," Tom says. He jerks a finger toward the portrait of Dumbledore hanging on the wall. "_He_ did."

"I see," I say. I'd seen all the paintings of prior Headmasters hanging on the wall, but it hadn't occurred to me that Dumbledore would get one already as well.

"I'll leave you to that," Tom says, stepping into the next room and leaving me alone in the office.

Dumbledore narrows his eyes at me. "I'm surprised that you dared to come and face me, after all that Tom told me about, assuming what he says is true."

"I don't see why I shouldn't," I say. "And I'm sure it was."

"So, how long were you plotting to murder me?" Dumbledore's portrait asks.

"About five minutes," I reply.

Dumbledore raises an eyebrow. "Might I know _why_ you felt the need to betray me?"

"Dumbledore..." I say. "Would you have been willing to sacrifice your life, if it meant that dozens of others could be saved?"

"Of course," Dumbledore says.

"He was going to kill them all, you know," I say. "And had. Everyone hiding out at that house, I don't know how many were there. I convinced him to take a less bloody course, but it was not one without its price."

"And that price was my life?" Dumbledore says. "Do you really trust him not to start slaughtering people for having the wrong blood again?"

"That doesn't seem to be what he's doing now," I say. "Right now, all that's left to me is to stay the course and see where it might lead. If that course winds up with us fighting again, I can only hope that I will be better prepared for it."

"And for all of that, he asked you to slay me," Dumbledore says.

"No," I say. "He did not. I chose to."

"Why?" Dumbledore says.

"For Harry Potter," I say quietly. "I killed you to save my own life, but the rage that powered the spell was for Harry Potter."

"I see," Dumbledore says, looking contrite. "Perhaps this end was a deserved one, then. All the mistakes I've made through my life, finally come to a head. Perhaps it's better this way, and that when you do finally have to stand against Voldemort, you might stand a chance of winning."

"Perhaps," I say.

"Tell me, has he been doing a good job as Headmaster so far?" Dumbledore asks.

"I can't argue with his decisions," I say. "I'm actually rather impressed at some of the things he's done. I doubt many of us would have wound up taking Muggle Studies if he hadn't made it a requirement. And when I talked to Hermione Granger, she was positively gleeful about the new Wizarding Culture class required for Muggle-raised wizards. And if I have to actually pay attention to History of Magic, at least he's brought in someone who doesn't just drone on about the Goblin Rebellions."

"Who is it?" Dumbledore asks.

"Someone you're apparently familiar with," I say, smirking. "Gellert Grindelwald."

Dumbledore looks at me in shock. "He- what?"

"He isn't allowed a wand, and he seems remorseful about his actions," I say. Not so remorseful that he's not willing to take a chance at reclaiming his former power, but enough, perhaps. "Would you like to see him as well?"

"I..." Dumbledore says. "No, perhaps it would be best not. I left him there alone for so long, and now I'm dead. What's there to be said? There was no other way it could be. There can be no apologies for doing what needed to be done."

"There are always choices," I say. "And I refuse to accept 'I had no choice' as a valid reason to do _anything_."

"I could not allow him to continue his reign of terror," Dumbledore says.

"If I can't see any other options, then I will damned well _make them myself_," I say.

Dumbledore says. "It's far too late, I'm afraid, to try to lecture me on what may or may not be done. I can only hope that the course you've chosen for yourself, and the world, does not end in disaster."

"That's all I really have, isn't it?" I say. "The hope of a thousand worlds."


	16. The Chase

**Chapter 16: The Chase**

I've realized that I feel less guilty about murdering Dumbledore than I have about some incidental deaths that I for some reason thought I should have been able to prevent. Perhaps it's because I made the choice to kill him. But does this mean that I'm becoming a terrible person?

I settle into the routine of the new classes readily enough. I'm calm, and focused on learning. And yet, Quirrell's Muggle Studies classes are rapidly convincing me that Muggles are the greatest threat the wizarding world could possibly face, and that discovery is inevitable in less than a decade.

"Hey, Harry," Draco says at breakfast one morning. "Did you hear? I made the house Quidditch team! I'm Ravenclaw's new Seeker!"

"That's nice," I murmur absently, peering at the _Daily Prophet_ with a frown. There's a story about a Muggleborn witch who barely escaped persecution by Muggles.

"Another one?" Draco says, looking over at the page. "They really should learn better than to go out among Muggles. That's just asking for trouble."

"Yeah..." I agree quietly.

Halloween leaves me dreading what horrible things might happen tonight, but it passes quietly enough. That only leaves me afraid that something terrible happened that I just don't know about. I'm nothing if not paranoid.

This term, Theatre Club is putting on a performance of Twelfth Night. At least this one of Shakespeare's plays isn't likely to mysteriously kill me just for mentioning its name. I still refuse to believe that Macbeth is really cursed.

* * *

This year, Valentine's day falls on a Tuesday, and there's a Hogsmeade weekend before then. I have no interest in going to Hogsmeade at the moment, however, and am curled up quietly in the nice, warm Ravenclaw common room, reading a book.

"Harry, are you coming to Hogsmeade?" Cassie asks.

"Nah," I say. "Go on ahead if you like."

Cassie pouts at me and leans close. "I was kind of hoping that you'd take me to Madam Puddifoot's."

"What would you want to go there?" I say.

Cassie looks at me as if I'm stupid. "Oh, come _on_, Harry. It'll be fun!"

"Alright, alright," I say reluctantly, putting away my book.

I let myself get hauled off to Hogsmeade and into Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop. I've never been in here before, and now that I'm in here, I can see why. I haven't seen so much pink in one place since seeing Gilderoy Lockhart's attempts at a Valentine's event. The decorations are quite gaudy and excessively frilly, and there are little cupids fluttering around dropping confetti randomly.

"If I wind up inadvertently consuming any confetti, I want a refund," I say.

Cassie giggles, and drags me over to a small table to sit. We're served tea in little cups with little pink flowers on them, and heart-shaped biscuits with pink icing on top.

"Isn't this lovely?" Cassie says, smiling broadly. "I've never been in here before, myself."

I give her a long, thoughtful look. She never married. She never even dated when she was in school. Maybe I should relax a little, myself. Take some time to live and _experience_ things. I have all the time in the multiverse to learn. But I'll drive myself mad if I don't take a moment to breathe now and then.

"The tea and biscuits are pretty good," I admit, nibbling on another one.

"Harry," Cassie says. "This is the part where we put our elbows on the table, gaze in one another's eyes, and whisper sweet nothings to each other."

"Huh?" I say dumbly.

Cassie laughs aloud. "Never you mind, Harry. You just keep right on being your incorrigible self."

"If you say so," I say lightly.

I realize abruptly that I'm actually a fair bit taller than her now. Damn it, am I accidentally changing my age when I'm not paying attention again? I focus on being fourteen again, and lose a couple of inches. I glance about the room surreptitiously, hoping that nobody saw that.

Then Cassie orders a variety of tea that's actually pink. Or maybe more rose-colored. Whatever. You know. Dark pink. As I'm watching her sip the drink, I look over her shoulder and notice Tom Riddle is standing over in the corner of the shop, watching me intently. So, what, is he now playing the creepy stalker Headmaster with an inappropriate obsession with his students? This might be considerably more disturbing if we didn't both know that I'm not actually fourteen.

* * *

Another year gone by. It seems like it passed in the blink of an eye. I've been pretty relaxed, actually enjoying my studies. My Politics grade has improved. By next year, I might even manage an O in it, if I keep improving like this. It's been difficult to keep my Potions grade from slipping, but I've worked hard at it, and it has paid off.

The Weasley twins approach me on the day after exams are done. I'm laying out in the grass, enjoying the sunny day.

"Brother of mine, it seems to me like ickle Harrikins is too perfect," Fred says.

"Indeed," George agrees. "So quiet, such excellent grade, never gets in trouble."

"Methinks he's better at hiding it than us," Fred says with a mischievous grin.

"Oh, master of deception, could you impart upon us humble pranksters your secrets?" George says.

I snicker softly. "Why, what do you _think_ I've been doing?"

"We have no idea," Fred says.

"That's what has us wondering," George says.

"Even we haven't been able to detect anything out of place about you," Fred says.

"But that can't be true," George says.

"Because we _know_ you're not, shall we say, a normal, innocent little boy," Fred says.

I chuckle. "I'm getting pretty good at acting?"

"And covering things up, I imagine," George says.

"Theatre Club helps," I say. "So does Politics."

"I never understood the appeal of going to a class on Wizarding Politics taught by a Malfoy," Fred says.

"Not if you look at it that way," I say. "I looked at it as the fine art of convincing people to listen to me. Put the right spin on things, and you could get away with anything."

"When you put it that way, I almost wish that we'd taken it," George says.

"Tell you what," I say lightly. "If I ever travel back in time, and Hogwarts has a Politics class again, I'll recommend it to you."

"It's also impossible to ever tell if you're serious or not," Fred says.

"Yep, that's the point," I say. "Have you made any progress on that little project I gave you?"

"Some," George says. "It still needs work."

"We've managed some inferior versions," Fred says.

"I think we're still missing something important with it," George says.

"But we'll get there," Fred assures me.

* * *

Home again, and hopefully another quiet, peaceful summer at Caer Danas. What am I saying 'another'? Have I _ever_ had a quiet, peaceful summer? I think I'll just be happy if nothing _too_ disastrous happens over the course of the next couple months.

"How was school, kids?" Sirius asks. "Not boring you old folks too much?"

I snicker. "It's been pretty interesting, actually."

"I've been learning a lot in Wizarding Culture," Hermione says. "I never realized how many things I didn't know about the magical world!"

"The end of Politics was hilarious," Cassie says. "Professor Malfoy said that in order to earn our grade, we had to successfully convince him that we deserved it. And Harry just got up front and said, 'Because I know your secrets.' Malfoy didn't seem too convinced at first, but when Harry opened his mouth to start describing them, Malfoy hushed him pretty quick and gave him top marks."

"Hah!" Sirius says. "Good on you, Harry. Beating a Malfoy at his own game."

I grin. "So, what have you been up to, Sirius?"

"Eh, Order crap, mostly," Sirius says. "Mad-Eye's been getting even more paranoid than usual. He's even being suspicious of Headmaster Riddle, of all people."

"And trying to keep track of what Voldemort is up to is an effort in futility," Remus says. "Reports have him as being everywhere and nowhere. At least things have been quiet enough at Hogwarts. I'm just glad that he hasn't made any offensive moves against it after Dumbledore's death."

"Riddle's been doing a good job at it," I say. "Classes this past year were _great_."

"I never thought I'd wind up finding myself looking forward to _Muggle Studies_," Cassie says.

"Muggle Studies, huh?" Remus says. "Like what?"

"Did you know they went to the _moon_?" I say. "Without magic, even! That's amazing!"

"Oh, come on, now you're just putting me on," Sirius says.

"Totally not joking," I say.

"It's true," Hermione says.

"They did indeed," Remus says. "In fact, there's a movie supposed to be coming out about one of the lunar missions this year."

"Oh, can we go and see?" Cassie says brightly. "I've never been to see a Muggle movie before!"

"We'll see," Remus says.

When Hermione goes to put away her things in her room, Sirius smirks down at Cassie and says quietly, "You know, Cassie, if I didn't know you were really an octogenarian pureblood witch, I'd think you were _actually_ an excitable fifteen year old half-blood girl."

"What can I say?" Cassie says. "I like getting into my roles."

* * *

When the letters for the next year at Hogwarts arrive, I decide to do my shopping incognito by myself, in a forty-year-old adult form. I need to be careful to make sure I look old enough, since my normal form is getting older and starting to creep closer to adulthood.

I stop at Gringotts first to withdraw some more money from my vault. Then, it's out to Flourish and Blotts to go through and collect the books I'll need for fifth year. I'm really looking forward to this. It's going to be mostly new material for me. I can't help but feel more than a little excited.

"Picking up school books for your son, sir?" says the witch at the counter.

"My nephew, actually," I say. "He'll be starting fifth year."

"I'm starting first year!" says a young blonde girl. I glance over and see that she's actually with Professor Sprout.

"Good day, Professor," I say. "Helping out a new Muggleborn?" I still hate that term.

"Indeed," Sprout says, looking me over absently. "Little Maggie here is so excited about learning magic."

"Well, I hope you make lots of friends at Hogwarts, Maggie," I say, smiling at the girl.

"Thanks, mister!" Maggie says.

I head out to pick up the rest of my supplies. Potions ingredients, parchment, some things for Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. Once I'm done with that, I decide to take a stroll down Knockturn Alley. See if there's anything there that might interest me at the moment. I browse the shops absently, looking at books that I might be starting to be able to understand.

As I'm heading out down the alley, I hear a vaguely familiar voice coming from between two buildings. "What are you going to do, you filthy little Mudblood? Scream for help? You can't even make a sound now, can you, hmm?"

In alarm, I look about to where the voice is coming from. There's a man in dark robes - I think I recognize him as Yaxley. He's standing over the little girl I met in the bookshop, Maggie. She's bruised and bloody, her clothing torn, looking up at him in terror. Did she inadvertently get separated from Professor Sprout and wander in here by mistake?

"Now, don't struggle, little whelp," Yaxley says, cackling madly. "A Mudblood wench like yourself should feel honored to get some pureblood seed."

Rage boils up inside me. My wand is in my hand before I know it, pointed straight at Yaxley. I'm not about to even just give him a warning. This scum doesn't deserve to live. I focus all of my hate and shout, "_Avada Kedavra!_"

Yaxley barely has a chance to react before the blast of green light strikes him dead on. He falls to the ground, a look of shock frozen on his face.

"Maggie, are you alright?" I ask gently, approaching the girl.

Maggie is sobbing in terror. She curls up in a fetal position and says, "Go away! Leave me alone!"

"Maggie, I'm trying to help, I swear," I say. "I won't hurt you."

"Where's Professor Sprout?" Maggie says, shaking furiously.

"I don't know, but I can help you find her," I say. "I'll protect you. I'll make sure nobody else tries to hurt you."

"No!" Maggie exclaims. "I don't know you! I don't trust you! You might hurt me, too! Wizards are bad!"

"Maggie..." I begin.

Maggie scrambles to her feet and darts off before I can stop her, vanishing into the shadows of Knockturn Alley.

"Maggie!" I call out, afraid that she's only going to get herself into more trouble.

As I go to chase after her, however, I trip and fall flat on my face. I'm not normally this clumsy. What happened? Ah, a jinx. The sound of footsteps running up to me echoes through the alley. "_Finite Incantatem_," I mutter quickly.

"Halt!" says one of the three wizards approaching me, my blood running cold as I see them. "We're with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. You're wanted for questioning. Turn over your wand. We've got Anti-Apparition Wards over this area, so don't even try to escape."

I think about this for a moment. I consider my chances of winning a three-on-one fight against adult wizard guards. I consider how likely it is to get off from casting an Unforgivable Curse, even against someone who clearly deserved it. They aren't called Unforgivable for no reason. Especially when no one is here to support my story anyway. However, I don't want to get into a fight I'm sure to lose. Neither does it seem at all pointful to kill myself over something like this.

I turn my wand around and offer it to the guard. He takes it and says, "_Prior Incantato_," which immediately reveals the incriminating spell. "You are under arrest for casting an Unforgivable Curse on a fellow human being." He snaps my pine wand in two, and I have to wince involuntarily at the sound. "What is your name?"

"My name?" I say, standing up and pulling out the Elder Wand in one movement. "My name is Darth Revan, Dark Lord of the Sith." A name I came up with on the spot, just because it sounded cool and a little like my father's alias. "_Protego!_" A magical shield springs into existence in front of me.

"What?" says the guard. "Get him!"

I still don't think I can win a fight with them, Elder Wand or no. So as they start flinging spells at me, I toss a few back to slow them down, and take off running. If I can get away from this Anti-Apparition field, I'll be able to make my escape. And... then what? What if they track down my wand and realize who it belonged to? I'll claim it was stolen or something, maybe. I'll think about how to get away with murder later. Right now, I should just focus on how to get away.

"Stop him!" shout the guards. The locals in Knockturn Alley steadfastly pretend not to see anything.

I dart through a twisting maze of alleyways, trying to lose them between the buildings. But then I make a wrong turn into a dead end. Just as I'm about to start panicking, looking around frantically, a voice nearby says, "Psst! In here! Quick!"

Not about to argue, I duck into the back door of a building, and nod in thanks to the old wizard. He closes it shut behind me and waves his wand over the door, locking it with a click.

"Not going to ask what you did to get the dogs on your tail," the old man says. "I can't hide you here, though. Cut through and try to make a break for it."

"I think I'll give them someone else to look for," I say. I will my Time Magic to make me even older, pushing my age up to eighty or so. It's very uncomfortable, and my bones keep aching even after it's done, but at least I'll be harder to recognize.

"Nice trick," says the old man. "It won't fool them, though."

"Worth a shot," I say.

I head out of the front of the shop and start to walk casually away, trying to avoid drawing any further attention to myself. I can hear guards coming up behind me, their boots scuffing against the rough cobblestones of Knockturn Alley.

"Is that him?" says one.

"Same robes, same wand," says another. "But he's older."

"Probably downed an Aging Potion to try to lose us," says the third. "Get him!"

So much for that idea. I pop some more spells at them and take off at a run. This obviously isn't working. I try to think of some way to escape. I don't really want to hurt them, but I will if I must. My spells are hardly managing to slow them down, however.

I focus my thoughts upon the harsh winter storms of my homeland, and shout, "_Nevischio!_"

A storm of sleet rains down upon the three guards. Ice forms over the ground, and they slip and fall. I take advantage of their even momentary distraction to dart off into another side alley. I run between two buildings, leap a small fence, and chance direction, trying to lose them.

Still can't Apparate. Is there anything I'm carrying in my bag of holding that might be able to help me here? Broomstick? Don't trust myself to fly well enough to evade them. Ah! Cloak of invisibility! I pull it out and drop it over myself, as well as let myself age back down to something more comfortable. With this, I'll be able to slip away readily, or at least hide out until they give up and go away.

"He went this way!" says one of the guards.

"He couldn't have gone far," says another.

"Wonder if he's hiding now," says the third.

"_Homenum Revelio!_"

"There he is! Trying to hide with an invisibility cloak?"

"Why can't you guys be this competent with actual Death Eaters?" I say, snorting softly and starting to run again.

I yank off my cloak with one hand and stuff it back into my bag unceremoniously. I throw back a few Stunners in their general direction, but fail at hitting anything. Actually, I just have to find myself laughing at the absurdity of it all.

"Completely barking mad," says one of them.

"Can't argue with that," I say, laughing back at them.

I aim an Energy Stream Curse at the ground, launching myself into the air. My shield flickers as it deflects a couple spells. I tumble in for a graceless landing on top of a roof, causing the old wound on my left leg to protest at all the abuse.

Alright, cloak is out, that didn't help. Business card? Portkey. I wonder if a portkey would work under this ward. Well, worth a shot. I put it in my mouth and use my free hand to rip it in half. I feel a familiar jerking sound from somewhere behind my navel, followed by relief as I'm swept away.

I land in a small room that looks suspiciously like some sort of interrogation cell. I spit out the half of a business card still in my mouth and look around. The door is locked, and there's a metal chair and a darkened window. I could probably get out of here readily enough if I really wanted to, with the help of the Elder Wand, but I'm not about to start to go blasting things just yet.

"Ah, do we have a guest?" says a man's voice, seemingly coming from nowhere. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Mr. Blair, wizarding attorney at law."

"I'm Lexen Chelseer," I say. "I was given a business card?" I hold up the torn half that I'm still holding.

"Yes, of course," says Blair's voice. "Would you kindly put your wand away?"

"Certainly," I say, sliding the Elder Wand into my holster. It's made for a shorter wand, however, and doesn't fit very well, so I put it away into my bag of holding until I get a chance to adjust the holster. I'm upset about losing my wand, and having to use this one will surely cause some problems for me, but I'm not willing to kill myself over that.

There's a click as the door unlocks. "Come on out. I hope you can understand my caution."

"I can understand paranoia quite well," I say, chuckling.

I head out through another room, and down a hallway. There are several doors, but one swings open, with lights inside. I go in, and find a middle-aged wizard in fine business robes seated a table.

"Welcome, Mr. Chelseer," Blair says. "Please, take a seat. Would you like something to drink?"

I realize suddenly that I'm very thirsty, almost compulsively so. Yes, I recognize this sensation from the party at the Malfoys' place. I take a seat and look at the offered cup of tea.

"So, what will be my poison?" I ask casually. "Truth, sleep, or death?"

"Heh, you're a shrewd one, are you," says Blair. "My master will be pleased. He has been getting rather frustrated with people who were obviously not in Slytherin for their cunning. The tea is dosed with a sleeping potion. I'm going to need to relocate you, but you can't know where you're going yet. Would you prefer to be Obliviated instead?"

I could just start this day over and none of this would have ever happened. I could have readily found and dealt with Yaxley beforehand. Maybe. At worst, I would have been able to be in the right place at the right time, and just made sure to get away before the guards arrived. But I don't like that train of thought. I don't like the idea of killing myself just because everything didn't go perfectly. It's a slippery slope that I would rather not start down. And I really don't want to abandon Cassie needlessly...

"No," I say. "I'll drink the tea. But I swear, if I wake up in Azkaban, I will come back and murder you personally."

Blair chuckles as I raise the cup to my mouth. "The Dark Lord does not waste resources. You'll be seeing him soon."

The sweet tea slides down my throat, and momentarily my head feels heavy, and my eyelids droop. I have to wonder if I'm not getting myself into something worse than what I just escaped from. No, I was bound for Azkaban without a doubt. There's no way that this could possibly be worse.


	17. Alone in the Dark

**Chapter 17: Alone in the Dark**

I wake with a groan, and blink for a few moments. Nope, still seeing nothing. And to make matters worse, I'm tied up. A surge of blind panic rushes through me as I realize that. Perhaps I should have expected that I would be taken prisoner. At least I don't detect any sensation of nearby Dementors. Small consolation as that is.

I take a deep breath, telling myself to stay calm. Tom doesn't have any reason to hurt me, does he? I can't think of any reason why he should. But just because I can't think of anything doesn't mean that he doesn't have some reason that I don't know about.

I'm not left sitting there alone in the dark for long before there's footsteps, a creaking sound, and a rectangle of light. I squint into the brightness at the figure standing in the doorway.

"Hello, Lexen," says Tom Riddle. "I trust you had a good sleep?"

"Hello, Tom," I say. "It would be far better if I did not wake up tied up. What's going on?"

Tom chuckles softly. "I only promised you a year. Your year is now up."

My blood runs cold with dread. "I see," I say flatly.

"And you did say that if I ever wished anything of you, to come directly to you rather than threatening other people," Tom says lightly. "Rest assured that no one else you might possibly care for is in any danger."

"What do you want, Tom?" I grate.

"Also be assured that I will not be threatening you with the potential termination of your existence, no matter what you do here," Tom continues lightly. "So we can remove that fear from consideration. I am interested to see what you might do otherwise."

"So, what, you're toying with me?" I say.

"In a manner of speaking," Tom drawls. "I know that you cannot escape by going back to prevent your capture, and I have removed your possessions for the time being." He chuckles in amusement. "And even if you could, at the moment, the DMLE is out hunting for a 'Darth Revan', self-proclaimed Dark Lord."

"I was a little annoyed at them at the time," I say. I _had_ been intending to try to work within the system and argue my case, but after seeing them unceremoniously snap my wand before I could even say anything to defend myself, it was a wonder I didn't hurt anyone.

"Why didn't you kill them?" Tom asks.

"I didn't wish to," I say. "Strange that you ask why I _didn't_ kill the ones trying to arrest me, but not why I _did_ kill Yaxley."

"I would assume that Yaxley must have done something, in your mind, to deserve it," Tom says. "You haven't made much of a habit of murdering my followers."

"He was about to rape an eleven year old Mudblood girl," I spit.

"Ah," Tom says. "Yes, perhaps it's just as well that he's dead, then. Be that as it may, you have taken one of my followers from me. I would have you take his place. I am certain that you would make for a much better servant than he did."

"I'm not going to be your _servant_," I snarl. "I will be _no one's_ slave."

"Excellent," Tom says, grinning wickledly at me. "That's what I thought you might say, given the choice."

"I won't choose to surrender my free will," I say.

"Defiance will be punished. Obedience will be rewarded." Tom says. "Now, a demonstration of what your delightful defiance will earn you." He points his wand at me, and says, "_Crucio._"

My body is wracked with incredible pain for a few long seconds. Thankfully, he doesn't leave it up for very long. I stop screaming and slump over, trembling a little.

"I don't want to have to hurt you, Lexen," Tom says. "But discipline must be enforced. I will only respond to you in kind, for your own words and actions."

My heart is pounding in my chest. What have I gotten myself into this time? The only way this could possibly be worse is if I were in Azkaban. But what about my friends? Surely they will realize that I'm missing.

"My friends will come for me," I say, glaring at him. "You won't get away with this."

"Will they?" Tom drawls. "Don't get your hopes up. I have already taken care of that little detail. No one will come for you, Lexen. Here, it's just you, me, and those of my followers who are incapable of interacting with the rest of the world in a civilized manner. Perhaps you will have the opportunity to meet them as well."

I look to the floor, heart falling. I don't know what he might have done, but I have little reason to doubt that if he says no one will come for me, then no one will come for me.

"But, you won't need these for the moment," Tom says. He waves his wand, and the ropes binding me disappear.

"Thanks," I mutter, flexing my sore arms.

"Ah, you _are_ perfectly capable of being polite," Tom says. "Don't think that I am unappreciative, even of the little things. _Placeo_."

The lingering discomfort from the Cruciatus Curse melts away, to be replaced by three brief heartbeats of incredible pleasure rather than pain. My eyes go wide, and I stare up at him, stunned.

"I look forward to our time together," Tom says, smiling at me in a positively terrifying manner. "I'll leave you to think on that for a little while." He turns and leaves the room, leaving me alone in the dark.

What in the Abyss was that? I didn't realize that there was a counterpart to the Cruciatus Curse, but I suppose it stands to reason. I can see pretty easily, however, just what he's trying to do to me. The question is, I suppose, what am I going to do about it? What are my options?

Option #1: Fight him until I go insane. Not a good choice, but a choice nonetheless.

Option #2: Surrender, do whatever he wants. Not a choice I would _like_ to take, but if it's necessary to spare my sanity, I'll do it.

Option #3: Try to talk him out of this. I convinced him before not to just slaughter everyone, didn't I? Maybe I can do that again. Somehow, I doubt it's going to work, however.

Option #4: Stall for time until my friends can save me. That's pretty doubtful, but I'm not willing to rule out the possibility entirely.

Option #5: Attempt escape myself. That seems the most likely of a series of bad choices.

Option #6: Grab someone's wand and hit myself with a Killing Curse, and get myself out of this world entirely. I'd rather not do that, though. Not when I'm just about to start learning new things. Not when I have Cassie...

Option #7: Trick him into thinking that I'm giving in to him just so that I can get away. That's probably an even worse idea than Option #2, though. I don't know that my acting is up to pretending well enough for _him_, so I might as well just surrender.

Option #8: Try to contact the outside for help. If I can get off a message with a Patronus, an owl... a house-elf...

"Rispy!" I say.

There's a soft popping sound. "Huh? Where is this?" A light appears in the palm of the little elf's hand, and I wince and turn my head away from the brightness. "Sorry."

"Rispy," I say. "I'm being held prisoner by the Dark Lord. Get help! Please!"

"Shit," Rispy says. "I'll notify the Order of the Phoenix right away." He vanishes again, and the light goes with him.

I smile a little to myself. Help is on the way. I might just get out of this after all. And they will bring down the Dark Lord once and for all.

My joy is short-lived, however. The door opens again, and Tom Riddle stands there, his silhouette looking down at me menacingly.

"You should not have done that, Lexen," Tom says.

"And why not?" I say. "What are you going to do, torture me?"

"Of course," Tom says. "_Crucio!_"

I scream as the spell burns through my body for several long seconds. I have to laugh a little despite myself when it's over. "You can torture me all you like, but I _will_ be free."

"You're forgetting something, Lexen," Tom says, leaning closer to me. "You can't escape."

With a flick of his wand, a curse strikes me. I clutch my chest and collapse, shuddering in pain. I can't breathe, and suddenly I'm coughing up something horrible.

"When you arrive back at this morning, tell me what happened," Tom says.

I can't respond. I can't speak. I can't breathe. My head is spinning. I'm dying. In moments, the darkness takes me.

* * *

I wake with a gasp in my cell and sight bolt upright. Well, at least I can breathe again. That didn't go quite so well as I had hoped. Alright, scratch that plan. I sigh, slumping down again against the wall. Not that I can move all that much with the ropes on me again, anyway.

After a few minutes, Tom comes in as he did before, and says, "Good to see you awake. I trust you slept well, Lexen?"

"At least you can spare explaining to me what I'm doing here again," I grumble. "You already killed me once."

"Oh?" Tom says. "What happened, praytell?"

"I summoned my house-elf to notify the Order of the Phoenix that you're holding me prisoner," I say. "So you tortured me again and killed me."

"You have done well in telling me this," Tom says. "_Placeo_."

I shiver for a moment as that strange, wonderful sensation rushes through me again for a few seconds.

"Now, I trust you've learned your lesson?" Tom says.

"I get the point," I mutter, sighing in resignation.

"Excellent," Tom says, waving a wand and making my ropes vanish. "I'll let you think on that for a bit."

He goes out and closes the door with a click, leaving me alone in the dark once again.

Alright, that idea failed. What else could I do? Make my own escape? I'm perfectly capable of casting a number of spells without a wand, and if I can find where Tom put my bag of holding, I'll be able to use the Elder Wand. I bear no illusions about being able to defeat the Dark Lord in a fair fight even with the Elder Wand, however. I might just be able to get away, however.

And then what? Tom Riddle is the Headmaster at Hogwarts. Even if I were to escape, I doubt he would let it slide, and allow me to continue to study there. Maybe I could get out of the country, and find another school of magic to attend. Beauxbatons, or Durmstrang, or the Salem Witches' Institute, or something.

And what? Do I really think that the Dark Lord won't find me? That he'll just give up? I may not be Harry Potter, but most of the world still thinks I am. And if he's set his mind upon having me on his side, it's going to wind up boiling down to beating him or joining him. If I escape, it won't be to flee the country. It'll be to join up with the Order of the Phoenix and fall under their protections, and find a way to defeat the Dark Lord.

I refuse to believe that defeating the Dark Lord is a hopeless prospect. Even such a great wizard as Dumbledore was able to be taken by surprise and brought down by a half-trained boy. If I can't find a way to escape, I might be able to make him think I'm on his side, and then betray him at the last minute and slay him.

As I'm sitting there thinking, the door opens again, and a light appears from the ceiling. Tom has returned, along with a house-elf carrying a tray of food. The little elf sets the tray down on the floor in front of me, gives a bow to Tom, and scurries out of the room. Tom closes the door behind her.

"Care for something to eat?" Tom drawls.

I eye the tray suspiciously, and look up at him.

"Don't be so paranoid," Tom says. "If I wanted you dead, I wouldn't need to poison you for that."

"Perhaps not," I say. "But you could still have laced it with Veratiserum. You won't be able to get Legilimency or the Imperius Curse to work on me, but you could still do that."

"What terrible secrets could you still be harboring that you're afraid of me finding out?" Tom says, raising an eyebrow.

I might say something horribly embarrassing. I don't think it matters, at this point, if he knows that I'm from another universe. Unless, of course, if he were to find out about the Nexus and find some way to use it to take over the multiverse or something, even though it's now inactive and unusable. I wouldn't put it past him to find a way to reach it anyway.

"If you really want to starve yourself, that's none of my business," Tom says lightly. "But I'm sure that it would be most unpleasant for you. Especially considering your inability to actually stay dead from it."

"You have a point," I mutter, reaching for the tray. It's not just bread and water or anything, but vegetable soup, sandwiches, and a glass of milk. I grab the bowl and start in on the hot soup.

"Now, let us have a little chat, shall we?" Tom says. "I don't expect you to just fall in with my agenda simply because I say so."

"Then what would you have me do?" I wonder.

"I would much rather convince you that my way is right," Tom says. "And I will not be satisfied with anything less. I could force you to comply by torturing you, threatening your existence, but all that would do is make you hate me."

"I don't think I'm capable of hating you," I mutter a little dejectedly, staring into my bowl of soup. I remember standing behind him, pointing my wand at him, unable to bring myself to cast the Killing Curse at him.

Tom chuckles softly, and say, "Then that makes it all the easier, doesn't it?"

"But, I'm not going to believe that slaughtering people, even Muggles, is right, no matter what you do," I say.

"We'll see," Tom says. "You have a month and a half to decide, after all. You want to be out of here by the time school starts, I assume, hmm?"

"Yes," I say, sighing.

"The Muggles are our enemies," Tom says. "Make no mistake about that. They would see us destroyed or enslaved for their own purposes. They fear what they do not understand. You've seen it yourself. What happened to young Harry Potter? What tender mercies did they visit upon him?"

I can't argue with that. I finish my meal quietly. Tom calls in the house-elf, Mipsy, to clean up after me.

"We'll talk more tomorrow," Tom says. "For now, I'll pose you the question. Would you like better quarters?"

I glance around at the cell. Nowhere to sleep but the floor, and a bucket in the corner of the tiny room whose purpose I can guess at. "I would be an idiot if I were to say no."

"Then ask," Tom says.

"Ask?" I say dumbly.

"If there is something you desire, ask me and I will consider it, within reason," Tom says. "And I will tell you what the price will be for it."

"I want to be let go," I say.

Tom chuckles. "I've already told you my conditions for that."

"It was worth a shot," I say, smirking. "Fine, what would be the price for better quarters? Or at the very least, a bed? Even a bedroll?"

"Lowering your standards much?" Tom says, chuckling.

"I'm just afraid of what you might say," I say.

"I'll let you out of here and even share my own quarters," Tom says. "If you can tell me that you love me. And mean it." He grins broadly at me.

I stare at him openly, and my heart practically leaps into my throat. "You're an evil man, you know that?"

"I've been told such by some," Tom drawls.

"I can't do that," I say.

"Very well," Tom says. "If you want a bed, I will ask you to grovel, and kiss the hem of my robes."

"I _won't_" do that," I say.

"Too much pride to beg, hmm?" Tom says. "So be it, then. If you want a bedroll, then, ask politely."

"May I please have a bedroll, sir?" I ask.

"Yes, you may," Tom says, grinning in amusement. "Mipsy! Bring our guest a bedroll."

The house-elf comes in again and spreads out a bedroll for me on the floor.

"Thank you," I say.

"You're welcome," Tom says with a smirk.

"I was talking to the elf," I retort.

Mipsy looks at me in confusion, and just gives me a bow before going off again.

Tom chuckles softly. "I shall return later." He leaves me as well.

The light goes off once Tom is gone, and I'm alone in the dark. I sigh, and curl up in the bedroll and try to sleep, for lack of anything better to do. I find myself unable to sleep, trembling, sobbing, feeling sick, miserable, and hopeless.

No, I can't start thinking like this. I can still escape. I'm sure of it. I just ought to take a nap first. Then I will see what I can do.

* * *

I wake in my cell after two hour long nap. Alright. No more fear. No more despair. I steel myself for what I'm about to try to do. Let's see how far my wandless magic has progressed.

"_Lumos_," I murmur, and a small globe of light appears in my palm.

I blink for a few moments and look away until I can see again. At least, failing all else, I have light. That beats being in the dark.

"_Tempus_," I say. It's ten o'clock at night, apparently. It's a little disorienting not knowing what time of day it is. I'm a Time Mage, but my innate time sense isn't as well-refined as it could be, especially without any frame of reference.

I take a step toward the door, and say, "_Alohomora_." The door doesn't budge. I pull forth more force, carefully making the movement with my fingertips, and say "_Alohomora!_" The door shakes a little, but still doesn't open.

I take a deep breath, and focus all of my will upon the idea of freedom for all beings. No one deserves to be a slave. No one deserves to be a prisoner. No man or woman, witch or wizard, elf or goblin or anything else! I might not have always done everything I ever could for that cause, but I still believe. _I still believe in freedom!_

"_ALOHOMORA!_" I scream.

The door flies open with a clatter. Thankfully, there doesn't appear to be anyone in the immediate vicinity, or they'd definitely have heard my impending escape.

I head out into the hallway and look around. There's light out here, at least, so I don't really need the glow in my palm. Where might they have put my bag? I'm going to need that, or at the very least a wand to start off with, any wand.

"_Accio_ my bag," I say.

Nothing happens, however. I didn't really expect it to work, though, especially considering I don't even know where it might be. No help for it but to start looking around. I start looking into every door along the way, wondering just what sort of building it is that I'm in. The room serving as my cell seems to be a large closet. I come upon a bathroom, an unoccupied bedroom, and what appears to be house-elf quarters.

"Hello, Mipsy," I say. "Can I ask you a few questions, maybe?"

The house-elf looks up at me with big eyes, then shakes her head, clearly terrified.

"Did your masters forbid you to talk to me?" I ask.

Mipsy pauses for a moment, then nods her head.

"Did they also forbid you to follow any commands from me?" I ask.

Mipsy nods her head again.

"Did they order you to notify them if you saw me here?" I ask.

Mipsy shakes her head.

"Alright," I say. "Do you know where they put my belongings?"

Mipsy pauses again, then gives a nod.

"Can you point me there, or show me, maybe?"

She looks at me uncertainly.

"I have chocolate in my bag," I say. "I will give you some if you can point me in the right direction."

Mipsy's eyes widen, and a broad smile spreads across her face. She nods enthusiastically. The house-elf scrambles out of the room and down the hall. She must really like chocolate.

We come to the top of a staircase. From here, I think this must be an old pureblood house, perhaps one belonging to one of the Azkaban escapees. The staircase opens up into a wide hall with a tall, vaulted ceiling. There doesn't appear to be anyone in sight at the moment. Tom said that the house is only occupied by himself and a handful of Death Eaters right now, so hopefully I'll be able to escape without being noticed.

Mipsy puts a finger to her lips, and creeps down the stairs. I follow along after her quietly. Down another hallway, and she points at the door at the end.

I try the door. It's locked. "_Alohomora_," I whisper, and the door opens.

It looks to be a broom cupboard. After a little poking around, I find my bag tucked away in a corner. I grin and pull out all the chocolate I have stored away in case of Dementors, and pass it over to Mipsy.

"Thanks for your help," I say quietly. "There's your reward. Best run along now before someone sees you."

Mipsy beams broadly and takes the chocolate, then disappears with a pop.

I pull the Elder Wand out of my bag. Good, he didn't take it. And it still sings to my soul. Sings for death. It's time to get out of here. No, it's time to _kill_.

I head back out to the central hall with the stairs, looking around the place for a way out. The next room over is a dining room, where two rough-looking men are huddled over a table, devouring a small feast.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" I cast, and a flash of green light takes the life of the first one.

"What the devil?" says the other, fumbling about for his wand.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" I cast again, and he joins the other in death. "Too slow."

Ah, that felt _way_ better than it probably should have. And I still want to kill _more_.

As I continue on out toward where I think the exit might be, a woman I recognize crosses my path. Bellatrix. _Her_. Yes, I want her dead.

"_Avada Kedavra!_" I shout.

Bellatrix manages to dodge, the flash of green light narrowly missing her. There's a wand in her hand in an instant, pointing at me. "You!" she shrieks, and then proceeds to bombard me with curses.

"_Protego!_" I cast to put up a shield, dodging some of her curses and blocking the rest.

"I will destroy you!" Bellatrix screams. "And if I don't, my master will for sure!"

I don't waste time talking in combat, generally. "_Tentacula Tenebrae!_" I cry. Black tendrils spring forth from nowhere and entangle Bellatrix. They might not hold her for long, but they don't need to. I immediately follow up with, "_Avada Kedavra!_"

Bellatrix is unable to dodge this time. The flash strikes her, and she goes still.

I find myself grinning wildly. I stand over Bellatrix's corpse, looking down at her. Such a _thrill_. She wasn't taken completely off-guard. I killed her in a fair fight. I beat her. I _won_. An incredible feeling.

"I hope you enjoyed that," says Tom Riddle. I look up to see him standing before the big double doors.

I laugh aloud. "Oh, yes. Yes, I did. Go ahead. Torture me. Kill me. It was all worth it."

"_Crucio!_" says Tom, clearly not needing any invitation.

I scream aloud and fall to my knees as pain rips through my body. He holds the spell for almost a minute, one minute of eternity in blind agony. But when the spell's effect fades, I'm laughing again.

"I am most displeased at you for slaying my loyal servants," Tom says. "Clearly, I did not take good enough precautions. I had not realized you were so easily gripped with bloodlust. But, I am never one to waste an opportunity. Serve me, and you will have all the slaughter you might crave."

I stop smiling at that. I feel like I've been hit with an iron maul. I glance down at Bellatrix's body again. I feel not a trace of remorse or pity for what I did to her. I feel sick. Absolutely terrified of myself. What kind of a monster am I becoming? What kind of monster _am_ I?

I climb to my feet unsteadily. "I will not," I say. "Fight me."

"Very well," Tom says. "If that is how it is to be. If you wish to die fighting, then I will grant you your wish."

We drop into dueling stance, and begin to exchange spells. I don't actually want to kill him. I don't expect to win. It takes me a bit to get back into the combat mindset. I can't bring myself to actually cast any lethal spells against him.

"You're fighting clumsily," Tom says, holding up a hand and pausing the duel. "If I were actually trying to kill you yet, you would be dead already."

"Sorry, sir," I say quietly.

"You visited flawless death upon Bellatrix," Tom says. "What happened?"

"I'm afraid," I say.

"Of me?" Tom says.

"No," I reply. "Of me."

"Why are you afraid of yourself?" Tom asks.

"I don't want to be a monster," I say.

"Is that what you're afraid of?" Tom says, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, sir," I say.

"Why do you think you're a monster?" Tom asks.

"Because I enjoyed killing," I say.

"And why is this something to be feared?" Tom presses.

I don't have an answer for that. "I don't know." They were bad people, who did bad things. They deserved to die. And yet, enjoying killing is supposed to be bad too, isn't it? My mind is very conflicted at the moment.

"Then set it aside," Tom says. "If you fear yourself and embrace weakness, then you will be weak, and you will be doomed to failure. Fear your enemy, fear me, fear the dark, fear death, but never, ever fear yourself."

I let his words sink in for a moment, and then give a nod. That makes sense. "Yes, sir."

"Now, are you ready to submit or die, Lexen Chelseer?" Tom asks.

"Let's fight," I say, dropping into dueling stance again.

"Very well," Tom says. "When you return to the past, I want you to tell me everything that happened here tonight again."

"Yes, sir," I say.

Tom gives a broad grin. "Because despite these small setbacks, I am quite pleased with you. _Placeo_."

I shiver as a brief wave of pleasure rushes through me. My eyes widen at him for a moment. And then the fight is on again. I chuckle softly, and have to smile. I find myself enjoying the thrill of battle again. Why should I let senseless fear take these pleasures away from me?

Then, one of Tom's curses strikes me full on, and I'm dead before I even realize it.

* * *

I wake in the darkness of my cell, alone. I failed to escape. I really should feel worse about that. But I'm still high on the rush of battle and the joy of killing.

As I lay back on my bedroll and that begins to fade, the despair and hopelessness begin to settle in again. I was such a fool. If I were intending to decide to join him, I should have done so then, when I would have the pleasure of having slain three of his mad Death Eaters behind me. But I came back again, having no intention of submitting. And the clear thought that I have no hope of escape. These thoughts haunt me as I slip away into a fitful sleep.

I wake some time later, and a murmured _Tempus_ indicates that it is six in the morning. Around fifteen minutes later, Tom arrives, and waves Mipsy in with breakfast.

"Good morning," Tom says. "How was your night?"

"I..." I say, trying to think how to describe what happened last night in words, and failing at it. "Ah, fuck it. Do you have a Pensieve?"

"Why don't you just let down your Occlumency barriers for me for a moment?" Tom says.

I look at him uneasily. I can't come up with any good argument why not. That doesn't mean I'm not still extremely nervous about the prospect. "I'm not sure if I even _can_," I admit. "I keep them up so reflexively and I haven't let them down since I learned how to do it, years ago."

"Then, focus upon the memory you wish me to see, and try to put it outside of the barriers," Tom says.

I give a nod. "Alright." I think on my memories of last night, and push them to the surface, away from the protected eye of the storm.

"Look into my eyes," Tom says. "And focus upon that memory, and nothing else."

I stare into his eyes for several long moments, concentrating on the memory. On everything that happened, and all that was said and done.

Tom gives a nod. "Excellent. At ease. You have done well, Lexen. _Placeo_."

My skin tingles at the sudden pleasant rush through my body. "Thank you, sir," I murmur softly.

Why is he so happy with me? Because I did what he asked? It would have been impolite to refuse. And I had no reason to hide what happened between us last night. Still, it just makes me think, aren't I supposed to be fighting him?


	18. The Endless Day

**Chapter 18: The Endless Day**

I'm terrified at how readily I've been giving Tom what he wants. No more. I will not be _anyone's_ slave, and especially won't be tricked into surrendering my free will like this.

When Tom comes in that afternoon to start talking about his agenda, I'm not listening. I tune him out and focus upon eating and conserving my strength. I don't need to hear about his justifications for killing Muggles.

"Lexen, are you listening to me?" Tom finally says.

"I was hungry," I say, setting aside my now-empty dinner tray. Mipsy blinks in and clears it away on cue.

"Do you still intend to oppose my plans?" Tom says.

"Of course," I reply, bracing myself for what comes next.

Tom pulls out his wand and points it at me, and says almost casually, "_Crucio_." Pain rips through my body for a few seconds. "Why do you do this, Lexen? You know I don't want to hurt you."

"Because," I say through gritted teeth. "I will _not_ be your willing slave."

"I do not ask you to be," Tom says. "And all I ask now is whether you intend to oppose me, not whether you are willing to join me."

"I will oppose you because what you are doing is wrong," I say.

"Is it wrong to fight a war against an enemy that would destroy everything you care about?" Tom asks.

"No," I reply. "But it's wrong to slaughter innocents in order to win."

"Perhaps you are not ready for this yet," Tom says. "Lexen, would you stand up?"

I climb to my feet, wondering what he wants now, and stand before him.

"Very good," Tom says, giving a small grin. "_Placeo_."

A rush of pleasure floods my body for a moment, and I frown at him. Damn it, I just followed an order, didn't I. I stubbornly sit back down again.

"No, no, stand up again, Lexen," Tom says.

"I refuse," I say.

"Refusing to do even something so simple?" Tom says.

"Yes," I say, glaring up at him.

"_Crucio_," Tom says.

I scream and curl up in a fetal position as sheer agony takes my body for a few moments.

"Is it really worth the price of defiance for something like this?" Tom says.

"I will not give you _anything_," I snap. "Torture me all you like! Remind me that I'm still alive, and my will is still my own!"

"_Crucio_," Tom says. Pain rips through me again. "You are being foolish, Lexen."

"I know," I say quietly.

"And I think I will not give you another opportunity to escape," Tom says. "_Silencio_. Is your grasp of nonverbal magic as good as your wandless magic?"

I frown deeply. I _had_ been intending another escape attempt tonight. So much for that idea.

"Good night, Lexen," Tom says. "Perhaps you will be feeling more amicable in the morning."

He turns out the light and leaves me alone in the dark.

* * *

Tom comes in the next morning with breakfast and light. "I think I will leave that spell on you for a while," Tom says. "Until I am satisfied with your performance."

I don't really care at the moment. There's nothing I really want to say to him anyway that wouldn't get me tortured. Shortly, he leaves me again, and turns out the light.

I'm not tired anymore. There's no way I'm going to be sleeping at the moment. I'm left to my own thoughts. So, what, have I decided to keep fighting him until I go mad? Or am I still hoping for a rescue, or holding out for another opportunity to escape? Why am I really doing this? Is this all nothing more than an exercise in futility?

After some time, maybe three hours, the door opens again, and the light comes on, but it's not Tom standing there. It's Bellatrix. What could _she_ possibly want?

"You..." Bellatrix snarls. "_You!_"

I look up at her in puzzlement.

"My master has become obsessed with you," Bellatrix says. "He ignores me, and even when he speaks with me, all he will talk about is _you_. No more. I will win back my master's favor, and I will remove you from the picture in the process! _Crucio!_"

Agony wracks my body. I writhe but cannot scream, cannot make the slightest sound. She holds it for too long, and I find myself reflexively trying to age myself down, to get away, to make it stop. The pain vanishes as I'm swallowed up by darkness.

* * *

I wake with a gasp in my darkened cell. I hadn't _meant_ to kill myself. Fucking Cruciatus Curse. Fucking Bellatrix.

Tom comes in with breakfast, and I look up at him pleadingly, trying to gesture to him.

Instead of realizing that I have something I need to tell him, Tom raises his wand, and I'm bound with ropes. "I'm afraid I'm not going to allow you to try anything, Lexen. If you are going to be foolish, you can go without breakfast, then. Mipsy, remove our guest's tray."

The house-elf appears and takes away the food. Fuck, this was not an improvement. Now I'm just tied up, hungry, _and_ about to be tortured.

Three hours later, Bellatrix comes in again and starts ranting at me. I can't say anything, I can't do anything, I can't even move. Then she puts the Cruciatus on me, and the torment starts up again. How much of this can I endure? Surely she won't be able to keep going forever. I try to center myself, hide myself in the eye of the storm in my mind. Stay calm. Stay strong. Endure.

But I can't stay calm. I'm panicking, terrified, a pathetic wreck. I would be begging for mercy if I could beg, but there will be no mercy. She'll do whatever she wants to me, and there's nothing I can do about it.

Bellatrix stops the curse, and looks down at me disdainfully. "Have you had enough already, filthy dog?"

I nod to her vehemently. I'm not too proud to admit it.

"Then I will grant you sweet mercy," Bellatrix says, grinning wickedly.

Bellatrix casts another curse at me, and I feel my life rapidly draining away. In moments, the darkness takes me again.

* * *

I wake, shuddering. Is a swift death the only mercy I have to look forward to? Surely Tom won't let her just murder me. Maybe if I can hold out long enough, he'll come in and tell her to stop.

When Tom comes in again with breakfast, I look up at him pleadingly, as close to begging as I can get without actually being able to really beg, but he ignores the look. I sigh softly and eat my breakfast. Whatever small consolation not being tortured to death on an empty stomach will be.

In three hours, Bellatrix returns to rant at me madly. Here we go again. "_Crucio!_"

It's hopeless. She keeps asking me if I've had enough. Keeps offering to release me from my suffering. Mercy. Fucking what kind of mercy is this? Stall her, delay her, endure, this can't go on forever. It can't. Tom wouldn't let her.

Would he?

I don't know. There's nothing left but despair. I can't just let her keep doing this to me.

"Have you had enough, you pathetic whelp?" Bellatrix barks at me.

I can't even nod my head at the moment. I lay twitching on the floor, lingering aches burning in every muscle.

Bellatrix grabs me by the throat and slams me against the wall. "Have you?"

I barely manage to get my head to move in what's vaguely and up and down motion, more of twitching in the right direction.

Bellatrix roughly drops me to the floor. "Then I will end this for you now."

She takes my life and pain away with another curse.

* * *

I wake again in my cell, and shudder. I'm not trying that again. No, I'm not going to be able to get her to stop just by toughing it out. I need to find another way. Failing all else, to reset so many times that I pass out from magical exhaustion. At least that might give me another chance to do something else. Maybe then, Tom will remove this silencing spell from me.

When Tom comes with breakfast again, I grovel at the floor at his feet shamelessly. I'll even kiss his fucking robes. Enough already.

"Had enough of the bedroll, have you?" Tom says. With a wave of his wand and some magic, the cell seems to expand a bit, and the bedroll is replaced with a small bed.

That was not what I meant. I sigh silently and grovel some more.

"You're welcome," Tom says. "Now, eat your breakfast before it gets cold."

I'm going to wind up with a phobia of omelettes after this, at this rate. I gesture desparately at my mouth, at my throat, looking pleadingly up to him.

"No, I'm not removing the spell yet," Tom says. "I think you still have a lesson you need to learn."

Hopeless. Dejectedly, I eat my breakfast, and settle into the darkness to wait for my tormentor to arrive.

When Bellatrix shows up this time, I take the opportunity to scramble for the door. I'm already getting weary and slow, however, and she's much too quick for me. I'm bound by conjured ropes in an instant.

"I don't think so, dirty whelp," Bellatrix spits.

She rants at me some more, and then brings down the torment once again. I struggle as much as I can, but it's no use. I'm not going to stick around for the torture, damn it. I try to focus, to age myself down, but I'm already too weak, and it's getting hard to concentrate. Damn it all.

"Had enough, dog?" Bellatrix says.

I nod my head feebly. Yes, let me go. Let me try this again.

* * *

I wake in the darkness of my cell. Tired, weak. I could sleep, I think. I could sleep for ages, if it would get me away from Bellatrix. But little hope of that, I think.

Tom comes in with breakfast, and I ignore whatever he might be saying to me. I try to make a message out of my omelettes. I don't think I actually manage to form readable letters, however.

Tom looks down at me disdainfully, and chides, "What are you doing, Lexen? Eat your breakfast."

Hopeless. I'm not getting through to him. He's not going to listen. I'm just going to be stuck with dealing with Bellatrix myself.

When she comes in this next time, I try to ambush her with the bucket. It doesn't work, and only earns me a longer torture session before she will give me the mercy of dying again.

* * *

I wake again with a sigh. Weariness hangs heavily upon me. I'm not going to be able to take many more of these, at least. At least I have that mercy to look forward to. Once I'm out from magical exhaustion, nothing's going to be waking me up for a few days.

"Tired, Lexen?" Tom says, my mind barely registering his voice. "Didn't sleep well?"

I continue eating distantly. His words hardly even sound like words.

"Lexen, look at me," Tom says, reaching down and taking my chin in his hand.

I look up into his eyes. Is he trying to use Legilimency on me? My heart leaps in hope for a moment. I try to push forward memories of Bellatrix's torture, desparately hoping that he'll figure out that something is wrong.

"Magical exhaustion?" Tom says. "What were you doing last night to expend so much magical energy? Trying to get your nonverbal magic to work on the door, perhaps?"

I shake my head. Damn it!

"Well, regardless, you're about to pass out from it," Tom says. "Can't have that. Severus gave me a new potion he's been working on that could fix that. I haven't tried it out yet, but now's as good a time as any."

My heart sinks. Of all the times for Snape to get an essence potion figured out. Tom pulls out a small vial and pours it down my throat. It fizzles on my tongue, and tingles a little going down.

"Hmm, better," Tom says. "That should keep you going."

I curl up in a ball, staring at the floor depressively. It's enough that I won't wind up passing out or anything, but not enough to put me at full strength. I'm still tired. It's just enough to keep me over the threshold of magical exhaustion. Fuck everything.

I'm going to need to fight Bellatrix again. When she comes in this next time, I lunge at her and try to grab her wand. Too slow. She kicks me to the ground and restrains me, and subjects me to the Cruciatus Curse again. I try desparately to activate my Time Magic. Too weak, can't concentrate. It's several minutes before she gives me a merciful death.

* * *

I wake in my cell again. I'm really starting to hate the word "again".

Tom comes in with breakfast, and realizes that I'm suffering from magical exhaustion. He pulls out the potion and tries to get me to drink it. I struggle, attempt to spit out out, but he forces it down my throat anyway.

"Don't be a fool, Lexen," Tom says.

He leaves me in the dark again, and again, Bellatrix shows up three hours later. I'm depressively curled up in a ball, and don't even try to do anything this time. And again, she tortures me and kills me.

* * *

I wake. How many times have I woken today? I've already lost track. I need to do something. Anything. I need to break the cycle somehow.

When Tom comes in, I tackle him. I don't know what I'm even hoping to accomplish here. He knocks me back against the far wall of my cell with a quick spell.

"What do you think you're doing, Lexen?" Tom says. "Trying to fight me now? Without even a wand?"

I sigh, lean back against the wall, and slump to the floor. He notices I'm under magical exhaustion and give me the potion again. I spend the next three hours hungry and tied up for my trouble. I try to activate my Time Magic even before Bellatrix arrives, but I can't get it to work even when I'm not under the Cruciatus Curse. I don't know if it's because I'm too weak at the moment, or because I can't achieve the right mentalstate for it. Mentalstate? Desparate and hopeless. All I want is a way out.

Bellatrix comes in, taunts me, and tortures me to death again.

* * *

I wake. I've never really been a religious sort, but this is the point where I start praying silently to anyone or anything that might possibly be listening to save me somehow. I spend three hours fervently hoping for any response from god, angel, demon, or devil. Nothing.

Bellatrix kills me again.

* * *

I try groveling at Tom again, and all that gets me is a bed. I hide under it, and when Bellatrix comes, I grab at her leg.

"You foolish dog!" Bellatrix snaps. "Get out here!"

Bellatrix hauls me out with her magic, ties me up, and tortures me to death again.

* * *

I wake. Fuck everything, I need to get out of this loop. Nothing is working. What can I do to change the outcome?

I need magic. Can I master silent casting three hours at a time, on barely enough energy to keep going? I don't know, but I have to try. I don't have any other hope of breaking free.

Once Tom has left me alone, I try to whisper, "_Lumos_." I only end up mouthing the words, and no light comes out. I try again, just _thinking_ the word as hard as I can. Still nothing. Am I too weak to even get off simple magic like this?

It's not like I needed to use a wand or words to do magic on the last world I visited. But that was something of a different situation. I had been physically modified, magically augmented so that the power was an innate part of my being. This body I'm using now is just my baseline form, an ordinary human with a dash of (non-house) elf. The only magic that comes to me innately is Time and Lightning.

Lightning. If I can kill Bellatrix with a Lightning Curse, I might just be able to get out of this.

I try practicing at getting lightning to work nonverbally for the next three hours, to no avail. My heart sinks again as I realize that I need to be angry in order to cast this spell. And I'm finding no anger to power it in the midst of hopelessness and despair.

Bellatrix comes in and starts her routine again. I try to get my Lightning Magic to come out while I'm being tortured, to no avail. I try to cast it when she stops and asks if I've had enough, but all I can do is curl up in a pathetic ball and nod to her, silently begging for death.

* * *

Waking in darkness, drowning in despair. I refuse to give up hope. I refuse to be trapped in this cycle forever. If I can't manage to cast even a Lightning Curse, my own innate magic, then I will... try random things until _something_ changes.

I strip off my robes and do a naked dance in front of Tom.

"What _are_ you doing, Lexen?" Tom says, giving me an odd look.

It doesn't stop him from noticing my magical exhaustion, making me drink Snape's potion, or leaving me alone in the dark again.

When Bellatrix comes in to torture me, I hide beside the door and stick out my foot to trip her as she steps inside. Bellatrix stumbles and falls, rolls, and has me bound in conjured ropes before I can take advantage of the situation. I had been so much expecting to fail that I wasn't prepared to follow through. Damn it.

"Your petty tricks won't keep me down, dog," Bellatrix snaps. "_Crucio!_"

Another death.

* * *

I wake, staring up into the darkness. I think I'm going mad. I curl up in a ball, silently sobbing, tears running down my face.

Tom comes in, and looks down at me. "If it's really so bad, then why do you keep fighting it?"

I look up, and cast him a pleading expression. I crawl over and grovel at him. Not too proud to beg, if it'll stop this fucking loop.

"What, you want a real bed now?" Tom says.

I shake my head vehemently. I point to my mouth.

"No, I think I'll leave that on a bit longer," Tom says. "I don't think you've learned your lesson yet."

I wince a little, then make a gesture across my throat with my hand, and put on an exaggerated dying expression.

"What, you died?" Tom says. He comes over and looks at me closely. "Hmm, it looks like you've got magical exhaustion, too."

He pulls out Snape's potion again, and forces it into my mouth.

"Now, don't do whatever foolish thing you did to deserve dying again," Tom says.

I grovel at him some more. I'm so close, so close, damn it! Please don't leave me alone in here again! But I can't speak, I can't get the message across, and Tom leaves me alone again.

Alright, enough is enough. I'm not going to wait around for Bellatrix to torture me. I look around the room. Not much in here to do anything with, but I'll work with what I have. I go over to the bucket and peer at it. It vanishes whatever is put inside. I try putting my hand in, then my head, but nothing happens. It must only work on anything that's put _completely_ inside.

I try bashing my head against the wall, strangling myself with the bedroll, madly striking everything in sight. There's nothing really sharp in the room, and the door doesn't even have a knob or handle on this side. All this winds up awarding me is a headache.

Bellatrix comes in, and I leap on her, biting and clawing like a wild animal. But even the element of surprise isn't good enough against this witch. All _this_ earns me is an extra long torture session before she will let me die.

* * *

I wake. Fuck's sake. I considering starting to bash my head against the wall again. Maybe if I did it hard enough, I'd manage to pass out and get something different to happen. No, I probably shouldn't. I don't want to risk _not_ dying doing something like that.

Tom comes in with breakfast. My eyes light up when I see the fork on the tray. I grab it and try to shove it into my eye.

Tom's reflexes are better than mine at the moment, however. He grabs me by the wrist and says, "Have you gone completely mad?"

I nod at him vehemently. I draw my finger across my throat in a dying gesture.

"Well, if you can't be trusted with silverware, you'll just have to eat like a dog, then," Tom says, taking the fork away from me.

I give him a deflated look and sigh silently.

Tom peers into my eyes. "Magical exhaustion... How many times have you died today?"

I think on it for a moment. I put up both hands, fingers fully splayed. I close them again, and make a helpless gesture to indicate that I don't know.

"At least ten times?" Tom says, raising an eyebrow.

I nod enthusiastically. Am I actually going to get the message across to him this time?

"Then perhaps you should learn your lesson already," Tom says. He turns and leaves the room.

I leap up and pound on the door. It's a futile effort. He doesn't return.

Fuck. It suddenly dawns on me. What if he _intended_ Bellatrix to come in and torture me to death? I can't imagine why he would want to do that, but my paranoia refuses to rule it out as a possibility.

Alright, I think it's time that I rule out getting any help from Tom here. I decide to start trying to get a nonverbal Unlocking Charm off on the door somehow. Why in the Abyss do I need words, anyway?

I focus my will upon the idea of freedom. Freedom for all beings. That's what I believe in, isn't it? No one deserves to be treated like this. Let me out of here. Let me go free, like the wind...

No matter what sort of force I put into my thoughts, I can't muster the strength to get the door open. I let out a heavy breath and slump down into the middle of the floor. This is hopeless. Completely and utterly hopeless. I'm never going to get out of this. I'm just going to be trapped in this loop forever.

Bellatrix comes in, and tortures me to death again.

* * *

Again.

* * *

And again.

* * *

And again.

* * *

Bellatrix is torturing me again. I don't even have the will to nod to tell her I've had enough, and reset the loop. The way things are going, waiting for her to get bored of torturing me seems like it has more chance of getting me out of this _at all_ than just dying again.

I don't know how long she keeps at it. I'm not really paying attention anymore. I'm curled up in a little ball in my mind, furiously letting the storm try to protect me as much as it can. The pain is like lightning crashing through the clouds. The storm with its lightning is my natural element. I will not fear the pain. It's not like I can do anything about it, anyway.

And then, finally, Bellatrix says, her voice distantly echoing as if from very far away, "Not feeling like playing anymore, are you? This is getting boring. Time to end it, then. Sweet mercy embrace you."

A curse strikes me, and darkness soon takes me.

* * *

I wake, blinking into the darkness. I got through the torture, and she still killed me anyway? Fuck that. And fuck you, Bellatrix. Is there no escape that way, either?

Bellatrix comes in again at the same time as she always does. Bitch killed me when I hadn't even asked her to. What more do you want of me?

Rage boils up inside of me as she taunts me and starts to torture me again. _I am the Stormseeker_, and I will not be defeated like this! I will give you no more! No more, no more, not one iota more!

"Had enough, cur?" Bellatrix says gloatingly.

I glare at her, baring my teeth and standing slowly, holding my hands out.

"What, you think you can fight me?" Bellatrix says. "You don't have a wand. You can't even speak. What do you expect to do against me?"

I think of all the pain she has inflicted upon me. Of the crimes she inflicted upon Alice and Frank Longbottom, and however many others. I think the word as hard as I can, forcing all of my rage and hate into it. _FULGORIS!_

CRACK-A-DOOM! A blast of lightning rips through me, knocks me off my feet and slams me into the wall, tears everything apart in the immediate area. Including me.

* * *

I wake, and find myself grinning in elation for the first time in quite a while. I can do it. I can really _do_ it. I am not weak and helpless. _I am the Stormseeker, and I will never be helpless again!_

Once Tom leaves, I experiment with my power a little. I don't even need to think the word. All I need to do is will it, and the lightning comes forth. It's my inborn magic, and it comes to me as naturally as breathing, once I know how to do it. I used it so many times before without even realizing I was doing it or intending to.

But I've been relying on crutches for so long that I never really learned to do magic as my own people do it. Without wands, without words, simply through sheer will. It tends to be more limited, and requires more work and study to get the effects you want, but once you know how to do it, very few things will stop you from doing it.

This time, when Bellatrix comes in again, I'm ready for her. I give her a mad grin, lift my hands toward her, and send lightning at her straight from my fingertips. This really _does_ make me feel like a Sith Lord. My hate has made me strong. I'd be cackling aloud if I could make a sound.

"Gah!" Bellatrix cries, stumbling back out into the hallway. "What? How? Wandless, wordless Lightning Curse? You're better than I thought you were."

I send another bolt of lightning into her. Now, _she's_ the one twitching and screaming in pain. I hold back the level of power. I'm in control here. I don't need to overcharge it so far that it kills me as well.

Bellatrix tries to get a shield up, but I keep hammering away with lightning, and pound straight through it. It's inefficient. I'm probably going to go into mana exhaustion again. But I don't care. I want Bellatrix to _suffer and die_. Revenge will be mine.

It takes me a few minutes of staring at Bellatrix's twitching corpse to realize that she's dead. I enjoyed that. Very, very much. And she did so richly deserve it. I refuse to feel guilty for this.

"Was killing my faithful servant really necessary?" asks Tom's voice. I glance over to see him striding down the hallway.

I nod to him vehemently, baring my teeth. I point to my mouth.

"Oh, fine, I suppose I should allow you to explain yourself," Tom says. He waves his wand, and cancels the silence.

"_Do you have any idea how many times she killed me?_" I shriek at him.

"Calm down, Lexen," Tom says firmly.

I put my hand against a wall to steady myself, panting a bit. Definitely exhausted. I feel like I could sleep for a week. But it was oh so worth it.

"No," I say. "I'm _not_ going to calm down. I kept trying to tell you, but you wouldn't listen. I couldn't get anything across to you. Please tell me that you didn't plan this yourself."

"I did not," Tom says.

I don't know whether he's telling the truth or not, but I feel relieved nonetheless. "Bellatrix. Tortured me to death. More times than I can count. Dozens of times. I don't know. I lost track after a while. I'm fucking entitled to revenge after that. And if you kill me, I will just do it again, and again, until it fucking sticks, god damn it!"

"Lexen," Tom says in a warning tone.

"What?" I snap.

"You're crackling," Tom says.

I look down at my right hand. Trembling, shaking, flickers of electricity running along my skin. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself, and get my power under control. The lightning fades away.

"Now, tell me," Tom says. "Why should I allow you to get away with slaying another one of my servants?"

I think in horror of the idea of finally getting past this loop, only to wind up in another one that just leaves me being inevitably killed by the Dark Lord instead. Could I kill him? _Would_ I kill him?

Who do I really think I am fooling here?

I sigh, and kneel before him. "I apologize for losing control, my lord. I beg your forgiveness."

Tom's lips quirk into a small smile. "Very well. Consider yourself forgiven, this time. But I will expect better discipline from my servants in the future."

"Thank you, my lord," I say.

"And I think you have suffered enough for today," Tom says. "_Placeo_."

Five minutes worth of pleasure wipes away the lingering aches in my body and eases my tension.

Tom approaches and examines me intently. "Magical exhaustion, unsurprisingly. You're going to have to rest this one off. I don't have anymore of that potion at the moment. I'll have to tell Severus that the test was a success."

I give a small nod. I can barely stand at the moment, but I manage to make it back over to my bedroll. I collapse on top of it, and in moments, I'm out like a light.


	19. Master and Apprentice

**Chapter 19: Master and Apprentice**

"So, have you decided to submit to my will now?" Tom asks me.

I groan softly and turn over in my bedroll. I'm awake, and Tom knows that perfectly well. "Let me sleep a little longer."

"You've been asleep for three days," Tom says. "At least get up and eat something."

He has a point. I sigh and sit up. "Alright, alright." I rub my eyes.

Mipsy has brought me an extra large meal today, and I eagerly dig in. Thankfully, there's not an omelette in sight. I feel a lot better this morning. Very much refreshed. I feel like I could take on the world today.

"I would imagine that you must be hungry," Tom says, chuckling. "Eat up."

"My compliments to the elf," I mumble through a mouthful of hash browns.

"Tell me," Tom says. "What made you decide to kneel to me?"

I snort softly. "I've had a lot of time to think, you know. If I intended to fight you, I should not have let you know that I'm capable of wandless magic," I say. "And inclined to try to escape."

"I already knew you could do wandless magic," Tom says dryly. "You've been practicing it in school, remember?"

"Right, of course..." I say.

"I'm only surprised that you were capable of casting it strongly enough to break my Unlocking Charm, even without a wand," Tom says.

"I could cast it strongly enough to break open Azkaban," I reply. "You have no idea how tempted I was to help you then instead of fight you."

"Does this mean you're not going to try to fight me any longer?" Tom asks.

"I really wasn't interested in fighting you to begin with," I comment. "But I still refuse to be your servant."

"I see," Tom says blandly.

"I am, however, willing to be your _apprentice_," I say.

"My apprentice?" Tom says, quirking his lips in amusement.

"I'll be the Darth Vader to your Emperor," I say. "Minus the idiotically trying to kill each other bit. And you're also much more attractive than the Emperor."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Tom says.

"Didn't think so," I say. "Never mind, I'll explain later." Those explanations generally lead to people thinking I'm insane. "Anyway, look. That damned hat put me in Ravenclaw for good reason. My main priority is to learn."

"Hmm," Tom says.

I stand up and get up in his face, and lower my voice. "I will not allow you to take away my free will. If you want me to serve you, it will be on _my terms_."

Tom grins at me. "I think we can work with that."

I pause for a moment, looking at him. I had expected more resistance than this. A smile spreads across my face as well as it sinks in that he just agreed to my demands. A thrill of excitement as I realize that I'm going to get the chance to learn magic from the Dark Lord himself.

"Why don't you finish your breakfast?" Tom says in amusement.

"Oh, right," I say, chuckling and going back to eating. I'd gotten a little distracted there with more important things on my mind.

"We can start your first lesson when you're done eating," Tom says. "Before we do anything else, I want to make certain that you are capable of casting all three Unforgivable Curses. And I already know you are able to cast the Killing Curse."

I almost choke on my food. I swallow and look up at him. "You would have me cast the Cruciatus Curse, right after it was used on me repeatedly like that?"

"Yes," Tom says, in a tone that brooks no argument.

I take a ragged breath and shudder involuntarily at the thought. But there's no backing down, and no turning back. I've chosen this course, and the only way to go now is forward. "Very well," I say. "If that is what I must do, then I will do it."

"Excellent," Tom says, grinning.

"Who will I be practicing on?" I ask.

"The Lestrange brothers," Tom replies, almost absently.

My heart leaps at that, and I grin wickledly. "Yeah. I think I can do that."

Once I finish eating, Tom leads me out of my room and down to where my belongings are stored. I pull out the Elder Wand, glad for the feeling of having it in my hand again. Wasn't I afraid of using it at one point? I have no idea why.

"You're using the wand you took from Dumbledore now?" Tom says.

"Those assholes with the DMLE broke my own wand," I say, growling a little. Why did I not want to hurt them, anyway? Sometimes, in hindsight, I don't even understand my own actions.

"How were you planning to explain that at school?" Tom asks.

"I hadn't really been thinking that far ahead," I say. "I had other things on my mind to worry about." I smirk at him.

But then his words sink in a moment later, and I realize that he'll be letting me go to school come September. That brings a smile to my face. I've had enough of fighting him, that's for sure. See where this path will lead, no regrets, no looking back.

"Perhaps you could claim that you won it back from Lord Voldemort in a bold confrontation, also explaining why you have been missing the past week," Tom suggests. "I'll back you up on it."

"You'd paint yourself as losing to Harry Potter?" I ask.

"No," Tom says. "I'd paint _Voldemort_ as losing to Harry Potter."

I think on that for a moment, and then laugh. "Playing both sides?"

"Indeed," Tom says, grinning. "And when Lord Voldemort is eventually defeated, by Tom Riddle and his apprentice, Harry Potter, of course, they will feel safe, having no idea that their world has already been turned upside down."

"Very cunning," I say.

Tom brings me out to another room, where we find one of the men who I'd killed during my escape attempt.

"Hello, Rabastan," Tom says with a small grin.

"Huh, who is this?" Rabastan asks.

"This is Lexen Chelseer," Tom says. "Perhaps my apprentice, in the near future."

Rabastan looks at me dubiously. "What makes you think you can pass muster?"

"Go ahead, Lexen," Tom says. "Let's see what you can do."

"_Imperio!_" I say, pointing my wand at Rabastan. It slips, and I don't get a firm hold on his mind.

Rabastan snorts softly. "You'll have to do better than that, Chelseer."

"_Imperio!_" I cast. This was never an easy spell for me to cast, for one who believes so strongly in free will. But I know the trick to casting it. I bring forth all the will and pride I can muster.

Rabastan shudders for a moment as my spell slips into his mind. I don't have a very strong grip, but it's a grip nonetheless. I exert my own mind and power upon him, locked into a battle of wills with this Death Eater.

_Kneel_, I think at him. _Kneel before me!_

Rabastan, still fighting it, jerkily goes to his knees.

_I am the Stormseeker. Heir of the Children of the Dragon's Blood. The Dark Lord's own apprentice. I deserve your respect. Bow down to me!_

I have a firm hold on him now. Rabastan lets out a deep breath as his resistance fades, and he bows his head toward me. "My Lord."

"Do not be ashamed that you fell before my might," I say. "I can command dragons. What are you compared to that?"

"Yes, my Lord," Rabastan says quietly, looking at the floor.

"Make him do something he would never do," Tom says.

"That might be difficult," I say. "To think of something, I mean. I don't think he has many principles." I smirk.

Tom smirks. "I'm sure you can think of something. At least something he would not wish to do."

"Can I kill him?" I ask, looking at Tom hopefully.

Tom chuckles in amusement. "No, you may not."

"Alright," I say, a little disappointed, but I hadn't really expected anything else.

_Cast the Cruciatus Curse on yourself_, I command Rabastan.

"_Crucio!_" says Rabastan, pointing his wand at himself. He doesn't manage to keep it up for more than a few seconds before he falls to the ground twitching.

Tom's lips quirk. "Now, why did you do that?"

"Because it amused me," I reply.

"You've done well, Lexen," Tom says. "You can release him now."

I cancel my curse. Rabastan slumps to the floor, released from the spell, then gets up and gives me a glare. I smirk at him and don't bother giving him the dignity of a response. Tom and I turn and leave the room.

Once we're back out in the hallway, Tom points his wand at me and says, "_Placeo_."

I shudder with pleasure for a few moments, and murmur, "Thank you, my lord."

Tom gives me a small grin, but says nothing. We move on into the next room, where his brother currently is.

"Good day, Rodolphus," Tom drawls.

"Good day?" Rodolphus snaps, glaring at me. "This is the bastard who killed my wife!"

"And I'd do it a thousand times more," I reply. "Do you want to join her?"

Rodolphus draws his wand on me, and Tom steps aside. Curses burn the air between me and Rodolphus, and one of them strikes me in the right shoulder, searing me painfully.

"_Expelliarmus!_" I cast with such force that Rodolphus is thrown against the far wall as his wand flies out of his hand. "_Incarcerous!_"

Ropes spring out of nowhere, binding Rodolphus tightly. It's not perfectly cast, and I think the ropes are probably a little weak, but they'll suffice. I'm glad for practicing dueling with Cassie, since this spell won't actually be covered for another couple of years.

"You'll pay for this!" Rodolphus roars. "My brother-"

"-has gotten what's coming to him, too," I say. "I'm dealing with _you_ right now, however."

Rodolphus looks hopefully to Tom. "Are you just going to let him do whatever he wants to me?"

"Yes," Tom says, smirking. "I am testing him to see if he is worthy of being my apprentice. Be honored that you are able to be useful to me in this way."

Rodolphus grumbles under his breath, then turns his glare back to me defiantly. "So, what'll it be? What are you going to do now, huh?"

I know I can cast the Imperius Curse. I've never cast the Cruciatus Curse before, however. I know the principles behind it, however. I know that these spells require strong emotions to cast properly, along with intent. Anger alone isn't enough to cast the Killing Curse, for instance. I need to have the intent and desire to kill, as well. Which is why I could never cast it against Tom Riddle, but that's another matter.

So, in order to cast the Cruciatus Curse, not only do I need the negative emotions, but also the desire to _hurt_ someone. It's a weapon of pure sadism, that I never had any wish to master. There's never any good reason to want to cast this spell.

But if anyone deserves this, it's the Lestranges. For what they did to the Longbottoms. For what Bellatrix did to _me_. She took me into the pits of despair, and all that came out of the other side was rage and hatred. I won't look back.

"_Crucio!_" I cast.

It only keeps him down for a second. "What, is that the best you can do?" Rodolphus mocks me.

I grit my teeth, and repeat, "_Crucio!_"

Another second. "You should just give up on the Unforgivables," Rodolphus says. "You clearly aren't cut out for them. What are you, some light wizard playing with fire?"

I bite back a retort of my own. No, I won't give him the satisfaction of that. I'm a damned dark wizard, and I'm not ashamed of that fact. And if I want to earn my place as the Dark Lord's apprentice, then I must cast this spell.

"_Crucio!_" I say.

Two seconds. Rodolphus is laughing at me more than screaming. "What's the problem, huh?"

I look to Tom and say quietly, "I've got a mental block with it that I'm going to have to overcome. I had to do it with the other two. It took me quite a while to manage it."

Rodolphus overheard me, however. "Oh, come on! It's not exactly difficult to cast that spell! I got it on my first try!" He looks to Tom. "Is this the sort of apprentice you really want? I'm sure you can find _much_ better than this scum."

"_Crucio!_" I snap.

I manage to hold it almost three seconds this time before I can't maintain it any longer. I know the problem isn't with the power level or the strength of emotion behind it. I'm using the fucking Elder Wand, for Merlin's sake, and I certainly hate this bloke enough. Why could I make his brother cast the curse on himself, but it barely works when I try to use it myself?

"A mental block, hmm?" Tom drawls.

I give a small nod, glaring at Rodolphus. "Casting these spells requires some interesting mental acrobatics for me," I murmur. I laugh aloud. "Although I'll admit that it wasn't nearly as hard as getting the Patronus Charm to work. That took me _years_."

Compared to that, this should be easy. The only obstacle here is my own mind. I take a deep breath, and try to focus. I think on my anger at Bellatrix. How I _enjoyed_ killing her. How much I wanted to hurt her for what she did to me. I will not be helpless again. I will not be a victim. I refuse.

But how could I subject someone else to what I was subjected to? I know that the trouble is that I don't _really_ want to cast it, no matter how much I _think_ I want to hurt him.

"Fucking Patronus Charm," Rodolphus spits. "You're nothing more than a light wizard wishing he were dark, who doesn't understand what the dark is really about!"

"_Crucio!_" I growl. Two seconds. "If you're so wise, then why don't you tell me?"

"You have to really feel it," Rodolphus says. "You have to embrace the dark, welcome it without question in all its aspects. It won't accept any half-measures. Give everything, or forget about it."

"You question yourself," Tom adds. "You doubt yourself. So long as your mind is divided, you cannot succeed."

I sigh. "I know."

Even if I don't understand why I should feel the least bit of sympathy for this monster. Am I really a failure as a dark wizard? Am I doomed to be a prisoner and a slave, simply because I cannot break a simple mental block? Is there one spell which I will just never be able to cast no matter how hard I try?

No. I refuse to accept that. _I refuse to accept that_.

If my life is at stake, then the world can burn. If something is standing in the way of what I want, then I will stop at nothing to remove that obstacle.

Even if that obstacle is myself.

I can... almost... feel... something... cracking...

"_CRUCIO!_" I shriek.

Power floods through me like water rushing through a broken dam. Rodolphus is screaming. Writhing and screaming. _Suffer, you son of a bitch, SUFFER!_

I'm lost in the wonderful feeling of dark magic. The power is such a thrill. To know that I hold someone's life in my hands. To demonstrate my superiority so clearly.

I don't want to stop. I don't want to end it. But I feel a firm hand on my shoulder. I glance up into Tom's face, blinking a little.

"You can stop now," Tom says gently.

"Yes, sir," I say quietly, releasing Rodolphus from my curse.

Rodolphus stop screaming, curls up, panting and twitching on the floor. I look down at him blankly. Should I feel bad for him? Why should I? I can't deny that I enjoyed that. And I don't see why I shouldn't.

The walls are down. I can't put them back up. I'm just left to wonder exactly what it is that I have lost. Was it worth the price?

Tom leads me back out of the room, and I follow him blindly, lost in the tangle of my own thoughts.

"I was not certain if you were going to be capable of casting that," Tom says.

"Neither was I," I admit. "But I wasn't about to take no for an answer. Not even from my own mind."

"You did very well, Lexen," Tom says, grinning at me. "I am most pleased with you." He raises his wand and points it at me. "_Placeo_."

He keeps the spell up for several minutes, leaving me writhing on the floor in pleasure rather than pain.

"_Expelliarmus!_" cries a voice, and the sensation is interrupted by Tom's wand flying out of his hand. Cassie? What in the Abyss is she doing here? "You leave him alone!"

"Cassie!" I say, climbing to my feet.

She's standing in the double doors at the entryway, Draco behind her, and both of them have their wands pointed at Tom.

"Harry, come on, we're here to rescue you," Cassie says.

"No, we're here to see if you need to be rescued," Draco corrects.

"How quaint," Tom says, looking over at them, his lips twitching in annoyance.

"Put your wands away, guys," I say. "I'm fine. I don't need to be rescued."

"See, I told you," Draco says.

"How can we be sure of that?" Cassie says.

"Cassie..." I say. "Why did you bring Draco along?"

"He insisted," Cassie says.

"I was feeling Gryffindorish," Draco says.

"That's not even a word," I say, smirking.

"Harry, do tell your friends to stand down," Tom says in a droll voice. "I'm going to need to check the wards."

"You think those wards can keep _me_ out?" Cassie says. "I am Cassiopeia Black!"

"Yes, yes," Tom says. "Do listen to your boyfriend."

"Cassie," I say quietly, going over to her. "Look. I'm armed. I have my belongings. I'm not being held prisoner or anything. And I can shake off the Imperius Curse."

"Then why are you here?" Cassie wonders, looking up at me, gray eyes bright with unshed tears.

"It's alright, Cassie," I say, putting an arm around her. "He's offered to make me his apprentice. He's offered to teach me."

"But... I can teach you, too," Cassie says, still looking hurt.

"Why can't I learn from both of you?" I say. "There's so much that can be learned. The whole of the multiverse is at my fingertips, and I want to learn it _all_."

Cassie sighs and pulls away from me, and goes over to Tom, who has retrieved his wand and is waving it about at the walls and ceiling. Tom pauses in what he's doing and looks down at her.

"Harry is mine," Cassie says. "You can't have him."

"An awfully bold declaration," Tom says. "And what does _he_ think about that?"

"I think that I don't belong to anyone. I'm not a piece of property, and I'm nobody's slave," I reply, sighing. "Damn it, Cassie..."

Cassie looks over at me, still hurt. "I didn't mean it like that..."

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Draco says, putting his face in his palm. "Look, aren't we all on the same side here?"

"I'm on Harry's side," Cassie says.

"I'm on the Dark Lord's side," I say.

"Exactly," Draco says. "What's the problem?"

"You just don't understand," Cassie says.

"I don't know that I want to," Draco says. "But playing tug-of-war with Harry Potter is just a little ridiculous. It's not like the Dark Lord wants to sleep with him or anything!" Draco stares at Tom's expression, and frowns. "Or does he?"

I rub my eyes. "I do believe that's the case, yes."

"Alright, you know what?" Draco says. "I'm going... outside. Come and find me when the world makes sense again." He strides back out the double doors.

"You-" Cassie says, glaring at Tom.

"Oh, please," Tom says. "You don't even know who he is."

"Of course I do," Cassie says. "He's Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived, and all that dragon crap."

"Cassie..." I say.

"Aren't you?" Cassie says, looking at me questioningly.

"No," I say. "I'm Lexen Chelseer. I am not, and never have been, Harry Potter. I'm sorry that I lied to you, but it was easier if fewer people knew about it. The only one who knew about it was Dumbledore, and the Dark Lord found out after Dumbledore died."

"But..." Cassie says, blinking at me. "Where's the real Harry Potter, then?"

"Dead at the age of five," I say. "I agreed to this charade primarily to spare Dumbledore the embarrassment of admitting his mistake. You better believe I blackmailed the Abyss out of him before I would agree to do it."

"I- I don't know what to make of this," Cassie says. "I thought we were family..."

"Technically, I'm Harry Potter's second cousin on his mum's side," I say. "So no, we're not related. But isn't that a good thing? I mean, a great-aunt hooking up with her grand-nephew seems a little creepy..."

"Sirius's parents were first cousins," Cassie points out.

"Right..." I say. "I suppose I can't say much. The Chelseers spent many generations marrying their second cousins or so."

"So, um..." Cassie looks between me and Tom, who is standing there with his arms folded across his chest, watching us. She lowers her voice to a stage whisper. "Do you... you know... _like_ him?"

My face burns. "Cassie..."

"You _do_, don't you," Cassie says, sighing.

"He hasn't so much as come out and said it yet," Tom says wryly.

"Fine," Cassie says. "I can work with this. I'll just have to win you over, then!"

"Clearly, him not actually being Harry Potter doesn't bother you that much," Tom says in amusement.

"It bothers me that he lied to me!" Cassie snaps. "But I suppose I can't really say anything. I'm acquainted with plenty of students at Hogwarts who think I'm Sirius's daughter. It's not like he was impersonating anyone I actually knew, anyway. I love _him_ for who he is, not Harry Potter."

"Do you really want to be my rival, Cassiopeia Black?" Tom says.

"I'm not afraid of you," Cassie says. "Dark Lord or no."

"Guys?" I say. "I really don't see why there needs to be any problem here..."

"You stay out of this," Cassie snaps.

I blink at her. "Right, I think I'm with Draco on this. Call me when the world makes sense again."

I step outside, finding Draco sitting on a stone bench by the garden, and slump down next to him. It's a beautiful evening, the stars beginning to twinkle in the sky in the dimming light of dusk. To think I could easily escape now, if I really wanted to. But that doesn't matter anymore. I almost have to laugh at the irony that if I had held out just one more day, my friends would have come to save me.

"Did that seriously just happen, or am I hallucinating?" Draco asks.

"That just happened," I say.

"Ugh," Draco says, sighing. "So, um, Harry, purely out of curiosity. Are you gay, or not?"

I snort softly. "Yes, no, maybe?" I shrug. "I like men. I like women, too. Provided they're badass enough, whether they're male or female."

"Just so long as you don't start hitting on me," Draco says, smirking.

"Not unless you quit proclaiming your heterosexuality quite so vehemently," I reply.

After a little while, Cassie and Tom come out. At least they don't seem to be openly starting duels to the death over me. I'd have to draw the line at that.

"Well, now that that's settled," Tom says. "Where would you prefer to spend the remainder of the summer?"

"I'd rather go home, honestly," I say. "If I were living under the same roof as Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, I don't know that I could restrain the urge to murder them forever." I smirk. "Although I'd rather like it if all of you were there as well."

Tom gives a nod. "I don't like that all of the Order of the Phoenix know about it, but I can turn that to my advantage." He gives a sly grin.

"They won't know what hit them," Draco says.


	20. Out of the Darkness

**Chapter 20: Out of the Darkness**

"I'm arranging a meeting with my Death Eaters for tomorrow," Tom says. "I would have you come along."

"Yes, my lord," I say, grinning at him.

"It's time that they know where they stand with regards to you," Tom says. "I won't have anyone else doing anything foolish like getting themselves killed trying to attack you."

"You have a pretty high estimation of my combat skills," I say.

Tom snorts softly. "There's no need for modesty. I've seen the way you fight. Our own duels, the way you took down Bellatrix both armed and unarmed, taking down Rodolphus as if it were nothing."

"Hardly nothing," I say. "My shoulder still stings from that. Didn't dodge fast enough."

"You also mustn't forget that you do this all under only four years of real training," Tom says. "And any more advanced techniques, you've just picked up wherever you can get them. What you lack in knowledge, you make up for in creativity, sheer will, and raw power. With proper training, you might even be able to match _me_."

"I'll concede your point," I say. "What about Snape?"

"What about him?" Tom asks.

"You know he's a spy for the Order, don't you?" I say.

Tom gives a short nod thoughtfully. "I want you to speak with him before the meeting. Find out where his loyalties really lie. Then we can decide upon whether we need to tell him only the fake story we want him to tell the Order, or the truth."

"Alright," I say.

That evening, Snape comes to see me at Caer Danas as I asked. We meet up in a small library, carefully secured by spells to prevent any eavesdropping or unwanted intrusions.

"Are you certain that this location is secure, Potter?" Snape asks. "The Dark Lord knows about this house and has its secret."

"It's secure enough," I say. "I needed to speak with you."

"Is there a problem, Potter?" Snape asks, scowling at me.

"It's a matter of some concern to me, understandably," I say. "I need to know who you are really loyal to."

"Dumbledore trusted me-" Snape begins.

"I don't care about Dumbledore," I snap. "Was it him you were loyal to? Or the Order in general? Or are you loyal to the Dark Lord? Or to _me_?"

"Is that Dumbledore's wand?" Snape wonders.

I didn't even realize that I have my wand out and pointed at him. I lower it and say more quietly, "Yes, it was."

"Where did you get that?" Snape says.

"I'll explain later," I say. "I need your answer. I need to know if I can trust you."

"Of course you can trust me," Snape says, glaring.

I sigh and rub my head. "Things are never that simple, you know."

"It _is_ that simple," Snape says. "I swore to protect Lily's son."

"Is that it?" I say, relaxing a bit. "Me specifically, and nothing else?"

"Yes," Snape says, giving an irritated sigh. "I don't see what you're getting at here, Potter."

"Harry," I say. "My name is Harry. Please call me that, if you would? It's not like I hate my father or anything, but I'm nothing like him, and the way you spit my surname, it's almost like a curse."

Snape sighs. "Fine. _Harry_, then."

"Did you know that Dumbledore wanted to send me to my mother's Muggle sister?" I say.

"Petunia?" Snape says, raising an eyebrow. "That's preposterous. Petunia hated magic and was always jealous of Lily..."

I give a nod. "Yes, I'll consider myself fortunate that her cousins stepped in to take me in instead. Against Dumbledore's will, mind you. _He_ wanted me to stay with Petunia and Vernon Dursley. But the Chelseers swept me away to the United States and hid me away, even from Dumbledore."

"It could not have possibly ended well if you'd stayed with Petunia," Snape says, shaking his head. "What was Dumbledore thinking?"

"I don't mean to start any pointless Dumbledore bashing here," I say. "I'm sure he thought he was doing what was best for the greater good or something." I sigh. "It's not like he was a bad person or anything. Just... he was a man. He made mistakes."

"Why are you asking if I was loyal to him?" Snape asks.

"I want to know what you'd think if Lily's boy decided he didn't want to follow what Dumbledore thought was best for him," I say. I snort softly. "I don't think I ever did, never mind before I wound up going through this all multiple times."

"What do you mean?" Snape asks.

"I didn't come back in time to fight the Dark Lord," I say. "I just wanted to study in peace."

"If only that were possible..." Snape says.

"Why does it fall to me, anyway?" I say. "All for the sake of a stupid prophecy, made by a useless hack? I'm not going to fight him."

"If you want to stay out of the war, I will do my best to ensure that you are kept safe," Snape says. "But finding a new place to live might be wise."

"Thank you for the offer," I say. "But that was not what I meant."

"What do you mean, then?" Snape wonders.

"I've decided to join forces with him," I say.

Snape looks at me in shock. "You would seek to serve the one who murdered your parents?"

"It's hard to bear a grudge for that, seeing as I don't even remember them," I say. "It was a war. People die in war. And considering that idiotic prophecy, I can't blame him for it, either."

"It's not like I didn't give Lily the chance to live," Tom says, appearing behind Snape as he lets down his Disillusionment. Snape spins around to look at him. "You asked me to spare her if I could. I gave her every opportunity to step aside, but she refused, even so far as begging me to take her life and spare her son instead."

"My- My Lord," stammers Snape. "I hadn't realized that you'd even tried to grant me that one boon I asked of you..."

"Have some faith in me, Severus," Tom says gently. "But I _am_ sorry that I was unable to grant your wish. So that debt is now on me."

Snape stares at him for a long moment, then looks at me and says quietly, "You really did it, didn't you?"

"He is now my apprentice," Tom says. "I will teach him everything I know, and he will be my second in command."

Snape looks between Tom and me, as if trying to process this. "I... I see."

"Now you see why I was asking you this," I say.

Snape gives a small nod. "Yes, I see. I must admit, I would never have anticipated this turn of events."

"And that is precisely why we will succeed," Tom says. "No one would possibly think that Harry Potter would ever join up with me. Not their Boy-Who-Lived, model student who never so much as pulls a prank or is late for class unless he's dead."

"This is true," Snape say. "My lord, what do you plan now? Will there be a return to the conflict of the past war?"

Tom shakes his head. "That would be foolish and self-destructive. There is no need for that. Our world needs to change, but killing everyone who disagrees with me will only serve to hasten our doom."

Snape looks surprised. "You have... changed in more than just appearance, my lord."

Tom chuckles softly. "Yes, I have. I have my _sanity_ back. And I have this young man to thank for it all." He nods toward me.

"I think you give me too much credit," I say.

"Not at all," Tom assures me with a grin. "But on to business. Severus, I'm calling a meeting of the Death Eaters tomorrow. I want you to report back to the Order of the Phoenix that Harry fought with me and retrieved Dumbledore's wand."

"Yes, my lord," Snape says, bowing his head toward Tom. "Might I ask one thing of you?"

"What is it?" Tom asks.

"You are the Headmaster of Hogwarts now," Snape says. "If you are able to find another Potions Master, I wish to retire. I have no love of teaching children, but I will continue to do so if necessary."

Tom chuckles softly. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

I never thought I'd be wearing a Death Eater mask, nor that I'd be so comfortable in wearing one. I briefly considered dressing up like Darth Vader, but dismissed that as a silly idea.

The Lestrange residence is occupied by around two dozen Death Eaters, all clad in black with these white masks.

"I've called you here to introduce you to someone that you will need to know," Tom says, gesturing toward me. "This is Lexen Chelseer, the Stormseeker. He is now my apprentice. You will treat him with respect, or I will not step in to save you from his wrath."

"Chelseer?" says one of them. "I've never heard of a wizard named Chelseer. Is he some half-blood?"

I whisper a quick Naming Charm. "Would you like to see my family tree, Avery?" I snap. "I'll choke you with it, if you like."

"We are entering into a new era," Tom says. "He is, indeed, a pureblood, but I will not tolerate any abuses against magical blood, regardless of heritage. The Muggles are the real enemy."

"What, we're supposed to accept Mudbloods now?" says another Death Eater.

"Not everyone can be nobility," Tom says. "If they will follow us and recognize our superiority, then let them have their place."

"Some would say it's bad to question your lord," I comment. "I say, do not ask questions that you do not want to hear the answers to."

"Like why he made _you_ his apprentice?" another says.

"Yes, like that," I say, smirking. "You know it was due to my own actions that he's standing before you today, do you not? What have _you_ done for him lately?" Admittedly, that wasn't _intentional_, but never mind that.

"Fine. But the Mudbloods-"

"-exist primarily because wizards keep disowning their Squib children and raping Muggle women," I reply. At their stunned look, I say, "What, you don't like talking about it? Pretending that it doesn't happen is naive. I say, there's no such thing as real 'Muggleborn' wizards. And if you don't want to be reminded of why, you won't argue this again."

* * *

"Severus tells me that you had a run-in with Voldemort," Moody says.

"I did," I reply. I pull out the Elder Wand from my bag. "I was even able to reclaim Dumbledore's wand, but unfortunately my own was destroyed."

"Where did you ever get the fool notion to go running off after him by yourself?" Moody says.

"I'm immortal," I say. "You know this. I don't see any need to put anyone else's lives at stake."

"Foolish," Moody scoffs. "You rely too much upon that immortality. You don't even know how it works. What if he finds some way to nullify it or use it against you somehow? And what if your powers are tied into Voldemort himself in some way?"

I sigh. I know it's not, but I can't exactly assure him of that without breaking my cover. "If I should need to sacrifice my own existence in order to bring him down and make the world safe from him forever, then I should consider my life well-spent."

Acting the part of the hero. What does it say about me that I can now say something like this with such sincerity that I almost believe it myself?

"Being willing to sacrifice yourself like that is all well and good," Moody says. "Just make sure that it's not done in vain."

"Contrary to appearances at times, I do know what I'm doing," I say, smirking. "I've certainly been through this all enough times..."

"Either way, you should really get out of this house," Moody says. "It's not safe anymore. I'd even suggest you to withdraw from Hogwarts. Suspicious things have been happening around there lately."

"Like what?" I wonder.

"I don't trust the staff and curriculum changes," Moody says. "And I don't trust that new Headmaster, Riddle. There's something fishy about him that I can't quite put my finger on."

"I'm not withdrawing from Hogwarts," I say.

"Suit yourself," Moody says. "But be on your guard. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

"I'll keep that in mind," I say, not even flinching at his outburst.

* * *

"Who is Horace Slughorn, and why is he hiding out in a Muggle town?" I wonder as I walk down the street with Tom Riddle.

"He was the Potions professor at Hogwarts before Severus," Tom says. "If we can convince Slughorn to return, Severus will be able to retire from teaching."

"I see," I say. "What are our chances?"

"I don't know," Tom says, chuckling. "I can't imagine that he will be pleased to see me."

I follow Tom into one of the houses, and we look around the place. It appears to be deserted, but our scrying indicated that he should be here.

"Did he realize we were coming and slip away?" I wonder quietly.

"Hmm, no," Tom says. "I think not." He pokes a very fat, cushy armchair. "You make a very fine piece of furniture, Professor Slughorn."

"Gah!" says the chair, transforming into a rather fat, cushy man. "You've found me!" He looks around in a panic, seeming on the verge of fleeing at any moment.

"So you're Professor Slughorn?" I say amicably. "Hello. I'm Harry Potter. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Harry Potter?" Slughorn says. "Do you have any idea what manner of person the man you are with is?"

"Yes," I reply. "I know exactly who and what he is."

"Well, whatever you might say, I'm glad to see you are well, Professor," Tom says, smiling.

"You're not going to recruit me into the Death Eaters, Tom," Slughorn says. "I won't have anything to do with that sort of business!"

"I'm trying to disband the Death Eaters," Tom says.

"You- Wait, what?" Slughorn says, blinking at Tom in surprise.

"The best I can do at the moment is to try to keep their more foolish tendancies in check," Tom says. "But no, I didn't come here to try to recruit you for the Death Eaters. I came here to try to hire you for Potions Master at Hogwarts."

"Albus was my old friend, you know," Slughorn says. "I do not appreciate that you killed him and so slyly took his position like that."

"Contrary to rumor, it was not I who killed him," Tom says. "It was actually another of my followers, and not on my order." Well, that's one way of putting the technical truth.

"Still, what makes you think I'd be willing to participate in the propaganda wheel that I imagine you've turned Hogwarts into?" Slughorn says.

"Perhaps to help ensure that it's not really propaganda?" Tom says. "You may not believe it, but my agenda has changed. And I've regained my sanity."

"Your sanity?" Slughorn says.

"There's no need to blame yourself for that," Tom says. "I was a fool when I came to you asking about Horcruxes."

"Horcruxes?" I say, raising an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"An attempt at immortality," Tom says. "Dark magic, a piece of soul placed within an object. So long as the object remains intact, you cannot be killed. And they're very hard to destroy."

"So you actually went through with it?" Slughorn says. "Six of them, you suggested making?"

"I made five," Tom says. "It was a terrible mistake, however. I had no idea what it would cost me. I was twisted into a shadow of my former self even before my eventual defeat at the hands of an infant. A monster who knew only madness."

"And now?" Slughorn says. "You look- You look like you did, when you were young..."

Tom nods. "In effect, even though I have the memories of later years, you aren't speaking to the one who called himself Lord Voldemort, so much as Tom Riddle at age sixteen, now plus a few more years of my own. The first Horcrux, before I lost everything. I have since reabsorbed the main piece of my soul, as well as all of the Horcruxes that I was able to retrieve."

"But, in order to do that, you would have had to feel true remorse for your actions..." Slughorn says. "It would have been very painful..."

"Yes," Tom says flatly.

I look at Tom in surprise. Is that why he's been acting so strangely? Not exactly what one would call a _good_ person, but a far cry from the insane, pointless villainy of Voldemort. Tom is cool, calculating, intelligent, and very charismatic. Perhaps that's why I love him.

I did not just think that. I _so_ did not just think that.

"I... well, I'm glad to hear that you have turned away from that mad path," Slughorn says. He looks to me, and asks, "Harry Potter. How did you ever wind up at his side?"

"It's a long story," I say. "And even if I cared to go into the details, I wouldn't do so here." I look around at the musty old place.

"Yes, why don't we reconvene somewhere more comfortable?" Tom says.

"Well, alright," Slughorn says. "I suppose there's no point in hiding anymore, is there."

"By the way," Tom says. "Few people realize that I and Lord Voldemort are one and the same. I would appreciate if you kept that to yourself."

We Apparate Slughorn to the gazebo behind Caer Danas, and I call, "Rispy!"

"Oh, hello," Rispy says, popping into view. "Another guest? The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is at Caer Danas. Except it's not. They moved out quite some time ago. Anyway, welcome to Hotel Potter. Can we get this stupid Fidelius Charm removed already?"

I snicker softly. "Hey, there's probably still people in the world who _don't_ know where my house is yet."

We head inside. In the main hall, the residents of Caer Danas are positioned around the room on the comfortable couches, plus Draco who seems to spend more time here than in his own house.

"Professor Slughorn?" Remus says, looking up.

"Ah, hello," Slughorn says. "Headmaster Riddle here is trying to convince me to take up teaching again."

"Well, that would beat Snivellus, certainly," Sirius says.

"Hey, Snape is awesome," I say.

"If your father heard you say that..." Sirius says, shaking his head.

"Ah, Professor Slughorn," I say. "I take it you know Sirius and Remus already. I should introduce you to the rest. Here's Cassiopeia Black, Draco Malfoy, and Hermione Granger."

"It's nice to meet you, Professor Slughorn," Hermione says.

"Yeah," Draco says, hiding the parchment he was writing on.

"Are you embarrassed about being tutored in your charms work by a Muggleborn?" Cassie says wryly.

"Well, yeah, kind of," Draco says, snickering.

"Would you be embarrassed about being tutored by the Heir of Atlantis?" I say lightly.

"Wait, what?" Draco says, looking at me oddly. "Oh, come on!"

I snicker in amusement, and turn to Slughorn again. "Anyway, what do you say, sir? As awesome as Snape is, he wants to retire, and I'm sure we'd all love to have you."

"Definitely," Cassie agrees.

"He'll hire Grindelwald, but he won't hire me!" Sirius says.

"Alright, fine, I'll do it," Slughorn says. "But I want a pay raise. And a better office."

"I'll take any job you offer," Sirius says. "And I'll do it for free. And sleep in front of a fireplace."

Tom smirks. "Don't tempt me." He turns to Slughorn. "Acceptable. It's good to have you on board. I'll inform Severus."

"You're welcome to stay here for the summer, if you don't have anywhere better to go than run-down Muggle houses," I say.

"Ah, I suppose that would be convenient," Slughorn says. "My thanks."

Later, Draco catches me alone, and says, "You were just joking about the Atlantis thing, weren't you? It's really hard to tell with you sometimes."

"I wasn't joking," I say. "She's a descendant of Atlantis. You can prove it, if you like. The goblins keep an artifact in Gringotts that reacts when touched by someone of the blood of Atlantis."

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" Draco wonders.

I shrug. "It wasn't really important."

"I mean, all this time I've been thinking she was just some upstart Mudblood!" Draco says. "Now I don't need to feel so bad about being shown up by her."

I smirk. "You don't need to be an Atlantean to study a lot."

* * *

The next morning, at breakfast, Slughorn comes down into the dining area and says, "Good morning! I want you four to be the inaugural members of my new Slug Club!"

"Um..." Draco says. "What?"

"Oh, why us?" Hermione wonders.

"You kids are going places, I'm sure of it," Slughorn says. "The best and brightest Hogwarts has to offer."

"And what does this Slug Club do?" I say. "Will it interfere with Theatre Club?"

"No, no, not at all," Slughorn says. "There will be parties, get-togethers. It's an opportunity!"

"Well, I'm never one to turn down parties," I say, shrugging. "Sounds like fun."

"Does it have to be called the Slug Club?" Draco says.

"My name is Slughorn, dear Draco! Your father was in the Slug Club when he was in school, you know."

"Was he?" Draco says absently, somehow managing to sound almost completely disinterested.

"Will there be food?" Cassie says. "Entertainment?"

"Of course, of course," Slughorn says. "And a chance to meet important people. It's all about who you know, after all."

"I suppose I can make the time," Hermione says. "Fifth year will be awfully busy, studying for OWLs and all."

"Oh, fine, I suppose I'll do it," Draco says boredly.

"Excellent, excellent!" Slughorn says, rubbing his hands together gleefully.

"Starting up the Slug Club again?" Tom says, strolling into the room. "I remember that..."

"Ah, yes," Slughorn says. "You were one of my star pupils."

"But more importantly," Tom says, eyes lighting up at the breakfast Dobby lays before him. "Pancakes!"

I have to laugh aloud at that. It's positively surreal seeing the Dark Lord getting excited over such a simple thing.

"Dobby likes serving pancakes," the house-elf says. "Pancakes is Master Harry's favorite food! Pancakes of hope!"

I keep laughing. "Yes, Dobby. That they are. Pancakes of hope. Pancakes of potential. Pancakes of possibility."

After breakfast, I speak with Tom privately alone in the small library at Caer Danas.

"What was this you were saying to Slughorn about Horcruces?" I say.

"Horcruxes," Tom corrects me.

"The plural of crux is cruces," I say. "It should totally be Horcruces."

Tom snorts softly. "It hardly matters, anyway. If I were going to do that, I should have only made one of them. That would have been bad enough."

"You said you couldn't find all of them?" I say.

Tom nods. "The diary that made me was one. I retrieved the ring, the cup, and the diadem. I could not find the locket, however. I sent someone to collect it from where it was hidden, but there was only a fake there with a note signed 'R.A.B.' I hope it hasn't been destroyed."

"A locket?" I say, raising an eyebrow. "With a green S on the front?"

Tom looks up at me in surprise. "Have you seen it?"

"It's at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place," I say. "The house-elf, Kreacher, told us about how his former master, Regulus Black, told him to find a way to destroy it."

"R.A.B. Of course," Tom says, snorting. "So Regulus betrayed me. No matter. At least the Horcrux is still safe."

"I'll go and retrieve it for you, if you want," I say.

"Do so," Tom says. "I have... plans for this one."


	21. Echoes of the Soul

**Chapter 21: Echoes of the Soul**

The summer ends, and another year at Hogwarts begins. Being model students has even earned prefect badges for Cassie and me. My first fifth year, and I finally get to see it. I'm almost weeping with joy as the thestral-drawn carriages bring us up to the castle for the Sorting Ceremony and the Opening Feast.

Another batch of firsties coming in. I clap and cheer enthusiastically for every single one of them, no matter which house they wind up in.

"Welcome, all, to another year at Hogwarts," Tom says, smiling out at the crowd.

He seems to spend a lot more time genuinely _smiling_ lately than I remember seeing the past year. He did a good deal of grinning wickedly, but now... one might say he almost seems actually happy. I, for one, am glad to see it.

"I'd like to introduce Professor Slughorn, who has returned to teach Potions once again, now that Professor Snape has retired," Tom goes on. "Professor Slughorn will also be taking up the duties of Slytherin Head of House once again."

There's a good deal of applause at this announcement, although I have to wonder how much of it is for Slughorn as for celebrating Snape's retirement. I know most of the students, especially those outside of Slytherin, didn't really appreciate Snape.

"I must also announce Alastor Moody as Hogwarts High Inquisitor," Tom says, his smile fading as he glances aside to Moody.

Moody stands up and glares about the room with his magical eye. "The Ministry has _concerns_ about things that have been happening at Hogwarts of late. I and my protege here, Nymphadora Tonks, will be watching you. We will uproot the Dark Arts wherever they might have taken hold. Do not allow them to seduce you, and you will be in no danger from the Aurors. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Tom clears his throat. "Yes, of course. Moody and Tonks will be sitting in on some of your classes. Please welcome them and give them only the best impression of Hogwarts. Now, without further ado, I believe you are all likely weary after the long journey. Prefects, if you would please show your new first years to their dormitories?"

"This way," I say, smiling at the group of slightly confused, bright-eyed eleven year olds.

"You're going to love Ravenclaw Tower," Cassie says.

"Especially if you like books," I add, chuckling.

* * *

I meet up with Tom in his office the next morning before breakfast. "What's this business with Moody and Tonks, anyway?"

"The Ministry is suspicious, but they can't really prove anything," Tom says. He snorts softly. "More like, it's the Order of the Phoenix that's suspicious, and somehow managed to convince the Ministry to go along with this."

"Why did you even allow this?" I wonder.

Tom shrugs. "Refusing would look more suspicious. Let them see that Hogwarts hasn't suddenly turned into a center for dark propaganda. There's hardly anything in the classes that would be a cause for concern, I wouldn't think. No secrets in what's being openly told to students!"

"I suppose not," I say. "But do you think that's really why they're here?"

"Keep your eyes open," Tom says. "Moody is good at Disillusionment, and that eye of his will pick up a lot that most would miss. And Miss Tonks is a Metamorphmagus. She could look like anyone, so be on your guard."

"I'll keep that in mind," I say. I have the Marauder's Map and know the Naming Charm, at least.

"If you see anything suspicious from them, or anything unfortunate happens, come and see me immediately," Tom says.

"Yes, sir," I say.

After breakfast, the year is getting started off with our first Battle Magic class of fifth year with Professor Crouch. And Moody is there, casually sitting in a corner and glaring at everything.

When Crouch comes in to the front of the class, the two of them spend a minute having a staring contest, looking like each of them is about to throw the other out the window. If I didn't know better, I'd think Moody _knew_ what Crouch did to him the last time I was in this universe. But I don't think I even told Dumbledore the details of Crouch locking Moody in his own trunk to impersonate him with Polyjuice Potion.

"Go on, Death Eater," Moody says. "Go ahead and start teaching them the Dark Arts right in front of me, why don't you?"

"I was exonerated, you know," Crouch says.

"Yeah, like I believe that you're really innocent," Moody says.

"If you just came here to make accusations, I will have you leave my classroom," Crouch says. "If you want to _inspect_ things as they said you were going to do, then you can do so silently. I have a class to teach."

"Fine," Moody says. "But I have my eye on you."

Crouch snorts softly and turns to the class, pointedly ignoring Moody. "We will be starting off this year by reviewing the Shield Charm and learning about variants thereof."

This is going to be a tense year, I think.

Although Moody and Tonks make token appearances into other classes, they seem most intent upon Professors Crouch, Malfoy, Quirrell, and Grindelwald. My first History of Magic class of the year is a little strained, to say the least.

"Welcome to my classroom, High Inquisitor Moody," Grindelwald says with a forced smile.

"Spare me the pleasantries," Moody says. "I'm here to see what you're really teaching these students. And mark my words, dark wizard, I don't trust you so far as I can hex you, whether or not you claim to have any remorse whatsoever over your actions."

After class, Grindelwald comes up to me as I'm getting up to leave the room. "Mr. Potter, will you see me in my office for a moment?"

"Certainly, sir," I say.

I turn around and almost bump into Moody. "I will not have you be alone with Mr. Potter, dark wizard."

"Moody, I'll be fine-" I begin.

"If you _must_ speak with him in your office, then I will accompany you," Moody says, glaring at Grindelwald.

"If you must," Grindelwald says wearily, clearly not wanting to argue about it. When we arrive in the office, Grindelwald says, "I hear you fought Lord Voldemort during the summer."

"I did," I reply.

"And I see that you are using a different wand now," Grindelwald says, looking down at the Elder Wand in my holster.

"I am," I say, suddenly glad that Moody came with me after all. I wouldn't put it past Grindelwald to refrain from making another grab at the Elder Wand.

"What's your point, Grindelwald?" Moody says.

"Did you win it in a duel, Potter?" Grindelwald says. "Is it attuned to you, or did you merely steal it?"

The Elder Wand is in my left hand in a moment, pointing straight at him. "Don't get any ideas, Grindelwald," I warn. "It's mine. Want to sneak into my dorm and slit my throat in my sleep? Want to hit me with a chair when my back is turned? Go ahead and try! You might even actually succeed. But what does it really matter to you now? Your youth is spent on a foolish mistake. Your time is through. You'd be better off to support _me_ rather than try to do something stupid."

Grindelwald stares at me, speechless.

I put the wand away and turn for the door. "Live or die. It's your choice. I really don't care either way."

Outside of the office, Moody steps in behind me. "Glad to see you don't trust him either."

"Constant vigilance, and all that," I say absently. "I haven't gotten this far by being a _complete_ idiot." I'll be the first to admit that I've done some pretty stupid things, though.

* * *

On Halloween, Tom Riddle invites me into his office. I'm all tense, wondering what this is about, and dreading whatever might happen on Halloween.

"Ah, good evening, Lexen," Tom says. "I was wondering if you would be willing to join me for this evening."

"What do you have in mind?" I say uneasily. "What are you planning?"

"There's no need to be so nervous," Tom says. "I'm refering to the day's traditional celebrations. This is the strongest night of the year for dark magic. I'm interested in performing a ritual ceremony with you tonight."

I snort softly. "Last time I participated in something like that, I would up being sacrificed to resurrect the Dark Lord."

"Well, not much danger of that this time," Tom says wryly.

My curiosity gets the better of me, however, and I say, "Very well. I'll do it. But if you're going to kill me, would you tell me beforehand, please?"

Tom smirks. "Why would I kill you?"

"That wasn't an answer," I say. "I'll still do it anyway, I'd just like to be able to prepare and reserve the right to refuse if it goes too many times."

Tom chuckles. "You are a very strange boy. But I suppose that stands to reason, with the strange power you have."

"So, what will it be?" I ask.

"Yes," Tom says. "I intend to kill you."

"Thank you," I say.

"I'll explain the details when we're there," Tom says.

I take a quick nap, and then meet up with Tom after curfew, slipping out under the invisibility cloak. I really shouldn't be getting involved in any sort of dark rituals or the like without knowing exactly what I'm getting into. Especially when Tom directs me down to a deserted room in the dungeons, alone.

"What, exactly, are we doing?" I wonder as I arrive and find him there waiting for me.

"Ever since I found out about your power, I have been looking into some way to take advantage of it myself," Tom says. "And I believe I have found a way."

"How?" I say, raising an eyebrow. "This isn't going to be bad for _me_, is it? You know there's no way in the Abyss that I'm going to agree if this means you're going to try to kill me permanently, or destroy my personality, or anything."

"Of course not," Tom replies. "If I intended that, I certainly wouldn't be telling you about it, now would I? You are not that altruistic or blindly loyal. No, I do not believe that you will be harmed."

"Alright," I say, nodding. "Tell me what you plan to do, then. What have you discovered?"

"Remember when we met in Knockturn Alley, I was looking for a copy of _Secrets of the Darkest Art_?" Tom says. "Turns out there was one in the Headmaster's office, of all places. Probably confiscated from the Restricted Section at some point. In addition to detailing the means necessary to create a Horcrux, this book also discusses another Dark Art, that of Soul Bonds."

"Soul Bonds?" I repeat, raising an eyebrow.

"I do hope you haven't heard any of that idiotic fiction about them," Tom says. "I've heard the most ridiculous rumors about Soul Bonds. The dashing hero saves the pretty girl's life, so they're bound by destiny, stronger than marriage, on the spot, and can suddenly feel one another's thoughts and emotions, and so forth." He snorts softly. "Nothing like that."

"I wasn't going to say that," I say, smirking. "What I've heard about them is that they're used by demons to claim the souls of humans in exchange for the use of some of their powers."

"That... is actually pretty accurate," Tom says, surprised. "Where did _you_ hear about them? Even most dark wizards these days don't like dealing with demons."

"Long story," I reply, chuckling.

"Aren't they all," Tom says. "First-hand experience?"

I shake my head. "Nah. Heard about it from my family. Anyway, go on. You intend to try to Soul Bond me?"

"Yes," Tom says. "If done properly, you will have access to my power, and I will have access to yours."

"And we'll be stuck together for eternity?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you object to that?" Tom says.

"Give me a moment, please," I say.

Tom nods, and I lean against the wall, staring off into space thoughtfully, and find myself staring at Tom instead. I don't know that I like the idea of spending eternity with one person. I'd probably wind up getting sick of them at some point. But, on the other hand, it would be nice not to be alone. Always losing people, being forgotten in the waves of time. And if I should ever get sick of him, there's probably a way to break a Soul Bond, anyway. If there's anything I wouldn't mind spending an extended period of time with, it would very likely be Tom Riddle.

"I'll do it," I say.

"Why?" Tom asks, looking at me curiously.

"What?" I say.

"I want to know why you are willing to agree," Tom says. "How will you benefit from it? We'll certainly be stronger together than we would be capable of individually. But I want to know your reasons."

I let out a heavy breath. "I... kind of like the idea of not being alone forever. To have even one person that I'm _not_ going to lose."

"It may not even work," Tom says. "And if it works, it may not work in such a way that would permit that. I don't know yet. Don't get your hopes up."

"I'm willing to try," I say.

"Very well," Tom says. "The hour of midnight approaches. Let us prepare for the ritual."

He says not to get my hopes up, but I find them getting up nonetheless. I find myself almost desparately wishing and hoping that this will work somehow. Because we can figure out how to do it with one person, surely we will be able to manage a group of people eventually. I find myself dreaming of traveling the multiverse with a group of my closest friends who I can trust with my very life and soul.

"Sit," Tom instructs, gesturing to a spot on the floor as he goes to light several candles.

My heart is pounding. Knowing that he means to kill me after this is over, however, doesn't make it any easier than wondering. Usually when I die, I don't have a lot of time to think about my impending doom. But whatever guilt I might bear for Cassie is balanced out by the presence and wishes of Tom. How can someone who fills me with such dread and fear draw me in like a moth to the flame? Hope and fear, all tied up in one package.

Tom draws runes along the floor, and instructs me to cut my wrists so that my blood will spill out into the grooves. The runes begin to glow an eerie green color as blood flows into them.

"And now, for this..." Tom says behind me, pulling out something and drawing it around my neck. It's the locket Horcrux that Cassie and I found at Grimmauld Place, icy cold around my throat, with a permeating dark feeling in it that causes me to shudder involuntarily.

Tom utterly some arcane words, and it feels like something is slipping into me, snakes worming their way painfully into the core of my being. I'm starting to think that this probably was a really terrible idea, but it's too late to back out now. Sudden panic replaces the hope I had even a moment before.

"Relax," Tom murmurs soothingly. "Don't fight it."

"I'm trying," I whisper. "Sometimes I wonder why I agree to these things myself."

Tom chuckles softly, and after a moment he takes the locket off of me. "There. How do you feel?"

"I don't know," I say. "Woozy. A little ill."

"That's probably the blood loss," Tom says. "Time for you to go. Let me know when you get back."

I give a small nod.

"Now," Tom says, standing straight. "Cut your throat."

I think I must be quite obviously mad. Completely barking mad. I only hesitate for an instant before obeying Tom's instructions, and let my lifeblood spill out.

* * *

I wake in the Ravenclaw dorm on Halloween after curfew. Why did I just do that? I rub my head. I remember what we were hoping for, and wonder if it worked.

I pull on the invisibility cloak and slip down into the dungeons again. My heart races as I wonder beyond hope if Tom actually came back with me, or what.

"Did it work?" I ask as I step inside.

"No," Tom replies. Then, to my crestfallen expression, he adds quickly, "Do not fret. I have other ideas. We will try something else."

We make our preparations again, and when the hour of midnight arrives, I'm again sitting in the center of a circle of runes with the locket Horcrux around my neck.

"This is what we did before, though," I protest. "And it didn't work."

"I'm doing something different," Tom says. "I did plan for this."

"Very well," I say.

If I look closely, I think the runes on the floor might be different and more extensive, and when Tom chants the arcane words of the ritual, they might be a little different and longer, as well.

The sensation is much stronger this time. I have trouble breathing. But it's more than just physical. There's a strange pressure on my mind as well. My heart is racing, and I find myself panicking again despite all my efforts to stay calm.

"Be at ease, Lexen Chelseer," Tom says gently.

"What did you do?" I wonder, looking up at him dizzily.

"Just what I said I would do," Tom replies, putting a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Go back now. Let me know if we succeeded this time."

I give a small nod, and draw the knife across my throat again.

* * *

I wake again in the Ravenclaw dormitories. Alright, I don't know if it's a good sign or a bad sign that I have a headache after that. Especially when I didn't before. Probably just lingering mental effects of whatever he did to me, like Dementors tend to do. I get up and head out to meet him in the dungeon again.

"So, did it work this time?" I ask. "That was the second try."

"No," Tom says, and then looks at me intently. "Or perhaps, not completely."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"You seem to have brought back the bit of soul that was in the locket," Tom says, holding up the former Horcrux. "This is empty now. It's in you instead."

I frown a little. "But it didn't bring back your memories."

"I think I know what went wrong, though," Tom says. "It must go both ways. Simply putting a bit of my soul into you won't suffice. I need to put a bit of your soul into me, and bind the two."

"Um..." I say uneasily. "What is this going to entail?"

"I'll warn you that this will probably be very painful," Tom says.

"I can deal with that," I say.

"It would be much more difficult if you had never killed," Tom says. "But as it is, I can work with this. That's why Soul Bonds normally require a living sacrifice. That, and the magical energy required. Strangely, this knife seems to think that not one, but _two_ sacrifices have passed under it tonight."

"They did," I say. "But I didn't think it would count killing myself in timelines that haven't happened..."

"Normally, I would expect not," Tom says. "But what we're doing seems to be echoing this night strangely through time. Perhaps it came back with the Horcrux somehow. I don't know. But let's use it to our advantage while we can."

We work to prepare another ritual. This one is different yet than the first two. I don't pretend to understand all the nuances. My knowledge of Ancient Runes only lets me pick out a handful of the glyphs Tom is using, the more basic ones.

This time, Tom cuts himself as well, and our blood and magic mingles in the glowing runes. He touches me, and chants arcane words, and agony rips through me. Not like the Cruciatus Curse. Not truly physical pain. This feels like my very soul is being torn apart. I clench my jaw to try to avoid screaming. For all the times I've been held under the torture curse, this should be nothing to me.

And then, something seems to break free. I blink slowly and stare at Tom as if through a haze. Motes of green and blue light hang in the air above the ritual circle like bits of free-floating magic. Tom's body goes tense, and spasms as he collapses to the floor.

"Tom!" I say. "Are you alright?"

"Lexen," Tom strains. "Put your hand on my chest. And repeat these words." He speaks three words in that arcane language I don't recognize, sounding almost demonic. This is magic older than Latin, and not of this world.

I do as he says, and repeat the words as precisely as I can. A surge of energy floods my body. A powerful cyan glow surrounds the two of us for a few moments, and I think I can _feel_ something slip into him.

Uncontrolled lightning bursts through the room. Crackling on every surface. Tearing through the two of us.

I clench my eyes shut, laying on the floor in a fetal position, trembling. A strong hand clenches my arm.

"Lexen," Tom says firmly.

My eyes snap open, and I look into his.

"Are you alright?" Tom asks.

"Are you?" I reply.

Tom chuckles softly. "I will assume by the fact that you're asking that, that the answer is an affirmative."

"Well, that's not necessarily an accurate assumption," I say. "As I'm a stubborn idiot sometimes. But usually I'm a stubborn idiot that's capable of saying so if something is clearly wrong."

"You're a very self-aware stubborn idiot," Tom says, laughing.

He sits up and helps me up. We're a mess, covered in blood, and still sparking with electricity and colored motes. Half of the candles have gone out, and most of them have been broken and scattered about the room.

"We're still going to need to test if it worked," Tom says.

"Right," I say. I think absently of all of the timelines in which I've left Cassie behind. I really shouldn't worry so much about that, though. If this works, it will all be worth it, and I will never need to worry about it again.

Tom finds the knife, and hands it back to me. "Whenever you're ready."

I give a nod, and say, "Here goes nothing." How telling is it that I don't even flinch at cutting my own throat now? I let death take me again.

* * *

I wake in the Ravenclaw dorms, still feeling a little tingly. There's no pain anymore, but there's definitely an odd sensation that I can't quite put my finger on. I pull on my invisibility cloak and sneak down into the dungeon again.

"It worked," Tom says, grinning gleefully to me as I step inside.

A broad smile spreads across my face. "It actually worked?"

Tom nods. "I came back with you. I remember. You stubborn idiot." He laughs aloud.

"This is incredible..." I murmur.

"Indeed," Tom agrees. "We're not quite done just yet, though. We need to find out what happens if I die before you do."

"You're going to kill yourself?" I say with a touch of surprise. "Isn't that risky?"

"Dark magic is always risky," Tom says. "But I wouldn't do it if I weren't reasonably certain that it will work. I'm just not sure _how_ it will work. Whether it will pull you back as well, or whether I'm inextricably tied to you. So, if my death doesn't immediately send you back, I want you to wait a few minutes and then follow me back yourself."

I give a nod, a little nervous. "You're far more bold about experimenting with this than I ever was."

"Sometimes it's necessary," Tom says. "Although, if I wind up stuck as a wraith or something, do look up necromantic rituals in _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ and restore me, if you will."

"Alright," I say. "I'll do whatever I can."

Tom gives a nod. He pulls out the faintly glowing ritual knife. "You know, I never expected that I would be doing something like this. The Dark Arts can lead you to strange places at times." He looks up as the hour of midnight strikes, and with a shaking hand, brings the knife across his own throat.

I stare morbidly as Tom falls to the floor, blood rapidly draining out of him, and he goes still. Did it work? Did something go wrong? What happened? What does this mean? I panic for a moment, fearing that I'm going to lose this just as soon as I've gained it.

I can't wait. I grab the knife and let my life out one more time as well.

* * *

I wake again in the Ravenclaw Tower. I hurriedly pull on my cloak and make my way down to the dungeons, hardly paying as much attention to subtlety as I probably should. I come into the room again and pull the cloak off.

"That also worked," Tom says, grinning at me. "Were you worried?"

"Of course," I say, breathing out a sigh of relief.

"I didn't really die," Tom says. "It just reverted me into the form of a wraith, like after I failed to kill a certain infant. Probably because I did technically still have a Horcrux. You."

"So, if I die, then you go back with me," I say. "And if you die, you just become disembodied until I drag you back with me or you get a body again in some other way, I suppose."

Tom nods, and smiles. "I think this is cause for celebration." He calls in a house-elf to bring us a small, late-night feast.

"I never thought something like this was even possible," I say, giddily taking a seat on the floor and grabbing some of the food the elf brought us. I'm a bit tired from the repeated deaths, but some food should help, and I won't turn down pie.

"I like to think that anything is possible if you find a way to do it," Tom says. "It's just finding a way can be tricky sometimes."

"And now we know this is possible," I say.

"Some people, after going through what I did in an effort to gain immortality, might have just been jealous of you for having been born with it," Tom says, chuckling. "But that would have been pointless."

"So, do you suppose you would be able to do it for other people, too?" I ask.

"Other people?" Tom says.

"Like Cassie," I say.

The smile fades from Tom's face. "Ah."

"What, you weren't jealous of my power, but you're jealous about _that_?" I say. "Don't be silly."

"I have no need to be jealous of Cassiopeia Black," Tom says, giving a wicked grin. "I have already won, after all."

"I don't see any reason why it needs to be turned into some sort of contest," I say. "It would be positively wonderful to be able to explore the universe with a group of friends."

"I see," Tom says, relaxing a small amount. "Well, if you want me to do more research and develop a cleaner way to do what we managed to accomplish, you will need to earn it."

"I just gave you immortality," I say. "And it's not like I'd refuse almost anything you'd want of me, anyway."

"True," Tom says. "But still, why should I do this? Give me a reason."

"Because, when I go back to the beginning the next time, you'll either still be trapped in that diary, or floating around as a wraith," I say. "I could just leave you like that."

Tom narrows his eyes in anger for a moment, and I tense, but then he suddenly laughs. "And this is why I would not mind spending eternity with you. You are utterly ruthless when you have a mind to be, and it's really quite delightful. Very well. I will do this for you."

"Thank you, my lord," I say, giving him a wry smile.

We finish up our midnight snack, and Tom says, "Best be getting back to bed now. You still have classes tomorrow, after all. Do you need any potions?"

"I'll be fine," I say. "I shouldn't pass out for three days or anything."

Tom nods. I pull on my invisibility cloak, and we head out of the room. As we head for the stairs, we almost run right into Mad-Eye Moody skulking about.

"Riddle," Moody says. "What are _you_ doing? Are you responsible for this?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Moody," Tom says.

Moody's glass eye flashes toward me for a moment, and I realize that he can see me even with this cloak. "There was a massive surge of dark magic in the dungeon at midnight, Riddle. What did you do, summon a demon or something?"

But we didn't actually perform the ritual in this timeline. What's going on?

Tom sighs in annoyance. "I did not _summon a demon_, Moody. But I will be happy to assist you in your investigation."

Moody peers intently at Tom. "There's a dark artifact on you, I can practically smell it. That knife. Hand it over."

"This?" Tom says, pulling out the ritual dagger.

Moody snatches it up. "So much energy in here! It's like several lives were sacrificed for this power. What did you _do_, Riddle?"

"I ate half of a pumpkin pie," Riddle says. "May I have my serving knife back now?"

Moody stares at him incredulously. "Do you seriously expect me to believe this?"

Moody stalks on to the room we just came out of, and we follow. He peers around the room, but there's nothing really to see now. He frowns deeply.

"I don't get it," Moody says. "I detected quite a lot of dark magic coming from in here. _Here_. But there's nothing here. Not a trace. But... echoes, maybe?"

Tom picks the knife out of Moody's hand and puts it away. "There's nothing to see here, Moody. It's late, and I am going to bed. Good night."

He turns and leaves me alone in the room with Moody. I'm not sure that Tom even realized that I'm still there.

"Nice cloak, Potter," Moody says.

I pull the invisibility cloak off of me, and say, "Hello, Moody." I knew he could see me, so I can easily manage not to look the least bit panicked or concerned.

"Keeping an eye on him, were you?" Moody says. "Good plan. Did you see anything? Do _you_ have any idea what happened here?"

"I ate the other half of the pumpkin pie," I say. "And nothing happened."

"What were you doing with Riddle this late on a Halloween night?" Moody says, looking at me suspiciously.

"I told you," I say. "We were eating pie, and chatting. Is there a problem with that?"

"And what was with that knife?" Moody says.

"An anomaly?" I suggest, shrugging.

"Potter, did what happen here tonight have anything to do with your time travel ability?" Moody says. "_Something_ happened, and yet _didn't_ happen."

I wonder just how I might be able to prevent Moody from finding out too much about what happened here tonight. I can't guarantee that there won't still be echoes if I kill myself here. And if I were him, I'd have made note of what I was doing before coming down to investigate, so if he'd probably know if he were Obliviated.

"Be assured that if anything happened, now nothing has happened," I say gravely.

"Did you prevent something from happening?" Moody asks.

I nod. "The best news is nothing happening, is it not?"

"Care to explain just what went on?" Moody says. "What was Riddle trying to do?"

Inspiration strikes me. "To protect Hogwarts, of course. Lord Voldemort had terrible plans for tonight, and I found out about them. I was able to go back and, with the Headmaster's help, we were able to avert potential disaster."

"Why didn't you say so in the first place?" Moody says. "And why was Riddle being so evasive, if that's all you were doing?"

"Because we used dark magic to do it," I say.

Moody scowls at me. "Was that necessary?"

"It's Halloween night," I say. "Light magic is extremely weak tonight. If we were to expect to be able to match the Dark Lord's power, we had to fight fire with fire, so to speak. Just using dark magic doesn't make you evil, you of all people should know that, considering how well acquainted you are with it."

"True enough," Moody says reluctantly.

"Your little inquisition has gotten everyone wary about you, even if they aren't doing anything actually bad," I say. "Does it surprise you if Riddle was unwilling to tell you 'oh, we used dark magic to stop the Dark Lord'?"

"Fine," Moody says. "Go to bed, Potter. But I'm going to keep my eye on Riddle. And on _you_."

I pull on my cloak and head out of the room. I check the Marauder's Map to make sure that Moody isn't following me, and duck into the Headmaster's office. I'm treated to the sight of Tom Riddle in pajamas and bunny slippers.

I clear my throat, and Tom spins around. "Ah. Lexen. Of course it's you. Nobody else could or would come in here so boldly."

"Sorry to intrude," I say.

"Oh, no," Tom says lightly. "Intrude on my bedroom whenever you like." He grins at me.

"Damn it, will you quit doing that?" I say, smirking. "Anyway, this is important. I had a little chat with Moody after you left. Tonight, we used dark magic in order to prevent Voldemort from attacking Hogwarts, and thanks to my time travel, we were able to stop anything from actually happening. Just need to make sure we get our stories straight."

"Ah," Tom says, nodding. "Good."

"It's really strange that he was able to detect anything happening from another timeline," I say. "That's never happened before."

"But then, you've never really experimented with your power before, have you?" Tom says, and I shake my head. "Who knows what else might be possible with it?"

"Perhaps," I say.

"Now, you'd best run along to bed," Tom says. "Unless, of course, you were thinking of joining me in mine."

"I'm going to my dorm now, Tom," I say, face burning.

"You're blushing," Tom points out.

"Don't care," I reply.

Tom laughs lightly as I leave the room.


	22. Suspicions

**Chapter 22: Suspicions**

"Come on, Harry, wake up," Draco says, poking me. "You're going to miss breakfast."

I grumble a little and murmur, "Is there pancakes?"

"Maybe," Draco says. "You were out late last night, weren't you. I heard you sneaking back into the dorm."

I climb out of bed to get dressed. "Yeah. Yeah, I was."

"And on Halloween night?" Draco says. "What sort of dark magic were you doing?" He holds up a hand. "Don't worry, I already cast a privacy spell before I tried to wake you."

I chuckle softly and relax. "I bound my soul to the Dark Lord."

Draco stares at me. "You know, it's funny how you were trying to fight him at one point, and now you're doing things like this?"

"I'm not one for half measures," I say, smirking. I finish getting dressed. "Let's go get some breakfast."

That evening after dinner, I go to see Tom in the Headmaster's office. Like I often saw Dumbledore doing, he's currently scribbling with a quill on a piece of parchment, no doubt doing some important bit of paperwork or another.

"Am I interrupting anything?" I say.

"Nothing that can't be put off," Tom says, pushing aside the parchment. "Come, sit. What do you need?"

I take a seat across from him, and say, "Well, there's something you really ought to know about me that I've been hiding from, well, everyone. I haven't told _anyone_ in this world this yet."

"Oh?" Tom says, raising an eyebrow and looking over at me in interest. "You have _more_ secrets?"

I chuckle softly. "Well, this is kind of a big one. But, all things considered, you're going to need to know about it, and better I tell you now than have you find out after being sent back to the start. So, not only am I an immortal time traveler and quite definitely not Harry Potter... but I'm not even from this universe."

"You were from an alternate universe?" Tom says. "Where events happened differently?"

I shake my head. "That's not what I mean at all. Perhaps I should just show you in the Pensieve."

Tom pulls out the basin and nods to me. "Go ahead. You've piqued my curiosity."

I pull out the Eldar Wand and put it to my head, focusing upon memories of my homeworld and of Torn Elkandu. I pull out silvery strands and place them into the Pensieve. Once it's done, I nod to Tom and take the plunge inside, and he joins me moments later.

We stand on a grassy hill, the brilliant sun Yallia shining vibrantly overhead. It feels strange, standing in Lezaria's heavy gravity again. It's been years since my brief visit back home to pick up supplies and gold. And Yallia's brightness makes everything on this world seem pale and dim.

"What is this place?" Tom wonders, staring about.

"This is a world called Lezaria," I say. "The place where I grew up. The village of Wishingsdale. This big house here belongs to the Chelseer family. They've lived here for over three hundred years, since shortly after the discovery of this continent."

"This... is not at all what I might have expected," Tom says quietly. "This really is another world entirely, isn't it."

"That it is," I say, grinning at him.

The scene shifts as the memory changes. Now, a younger version of me is walking through a darkened forest along with my mother. The trees seem alive in an eerie way, with twisted faces on their trunks, and limbs reaching out like claws toward us. I don't know why she had me walk there the first time. She could have just as easily Recalled me to the Nexus directly, and I would have been attuned to it from then on. Perhaps it was an attempt to impress me.

"Is that you and your mother?" Tom asks.

I nod. "Her name is Anara Chelseer." I follow along after the memory people.

"There's a lot of magic here," Tom says. "Very dark magic. Is that a dragon skull?"

The memory Lexen is approaching a cave shaped like a giant skull, and following Anara inside.

"Maybe," I say. "I never bothered asking if it were a _real_ skull."

We follow the memories inside the cave and through several winding passages. The portal itself isn't visible. It follows seemlessly from one world to another. One moment we're walking through a cave on Lezaria, and then next, we're in the Ethereal Plane, in Torn Elkandu. We step out of a tunnel entrance and emerge on the far side.

Streets and buildings lined with glowing cyan runes sprawl before us. A swirling purple-black sky ripples overhead. Memory Lexen's look of awe and wonder is matched only by Tom's expression beside him.

"Welcome to Torn Elkandu, Lexen Chelseer," Anara says. "The center of the universe. The heart of all things. The link between all places."

After a few minutes, we start walking again, heading down one of the streets toward the middle of Torn Elkandu. Eight shining, rune-etched obelisks form a circle in the center of the city.

"The Nexus of Torn Elkandu," Anara says. "Place your hand upon one of the obelisks and let its magic flow into you. Then, you will be attuned to the Nexus, and always able to Recall here at will."

"What is this?" Tom asks. "A... Nexus?"

"A powerful teleportation device," I say. "It's capable of sending people to other worlds. That is how I got to this world."

As memory Lexen follows Anara's instructions to attune himself to the Nexus, Anara says, "Congratulations, Lexen Chelseer, the Stormseeker. You are now an Elkandu."

"Elkandu?" Tom asks.

"Technically, it's an old elvish word for 'wizard'," I say. "But that's what my people call an interdimensional traveler. The Elkandu are a group of wizards who explore and study other worlds."

"Is that what you were doing at Hogwarts?" Tom asks.

I shake my head. "Not precisely. There's more to it than that. You'll see in a moment."

The scene shifts again. Only a week later, memory Lexen is coming out from the School of Thought after a day of classes, and heading toward the Nexus. But standing between him and the way out is a black-robed man, who grins wickedly upon seeing him. Sedder. Taunting him, calling him a Chelseer bratling, and then draining the very life from him with dark tendrils.

"Sedder?" Tom says. "A dark wizard, exiled from Torn Elkandu you said?"

"This was my first death," I say. "I was ten years old. Now, every time I experience a full reset, this is the beginning I go back to. The day of my first death. Six hours before everyone in Torn Elkandu is slaughtered by the Dark Elkandu."

I let the memory continue, as the ten-year-old version of me tries to figure out his power. As he and Keolah try to come up with some way to avert disaster. As Sedder kills everyone I cared about in front of me, and tortures my cousins to death.

"I almost envy Harry Potter," I say. "He was too young to understand what was happening. Too young to realize what he'd lost. But Sedder? I'm going to _kill_ him." I growl quietly, but then shake my head a little. "But that's not important now. Revenge can wait."

The memory finally shows my arrival in Hogsmeade, and the Pensieve expels us.

"I'm glad you told me about this," Tom says, looking thoughtful. "How many worlds are there?"

"I don't know," I say. "Dozens? Hundreds? Possibly infinite? I've only visited a few of them myself so far. But I would like to see many more."

"This changes everything..." Tom says.

"Do note that the Nexus is only accessible for the six hours following a full reset," I say. "After that, it destabilizes with no one taking care of it, and will kill anyone that tries to Recall to it. However, during that six hours, I can freely go anywhere and make any preparations I want. Including gathering people from other worlds."

"When I first thought to try to forge a Soul Bond with you, I thought it merely a way to ensure my own immortality," Tom says. "I never thought that something like this might be possible." Tom chuckles softly. "Perhaps I should take my own advice more frequently."

"Heh. Indeed," I say. "The whole of the multiverse is at our grasp. That's why I've been focusing primarily upon learning things. Nothing but knowledge has stayed with me before, and so I sought to gain as much knowledge as possible."

"An understandable goal, considering the circumstances," Tom says. "Amassing the knowledge of countless worlds?"

"In fact, the next world I planned to visit, I'd be able to learn some interesting mental organization techniques," I say. "The ability to absorb and retain information rapidly. I've been there before, and found out about this, but due to various circumstances, I'd missed out on the opportunity to learn this. Primarily due to the fact that I spent almost five years recovering from addiction to Dream Sweets, and then afterward, got swept up in a war, on the opposite side from the people who would have been able to teach me that."

"You? Were addicted to Dream Sweets?" Tom says, looking at me incredulously.

"I was having a bad year," I say, snickering. "But it was primarily because of the Dementors they'd decided to stick outside the school. Nightmares, every single night. Heh, I'll tell you all about my previous lives sometime if you like."

"It sounds like they have been quite eventful," Tom says. "I'm going to need to think on what you've told me, and perhaps reconsider my own priorities."

"I'd imagine that it would become quite tedious if every life were merely spent trying to fix this broken world," I say. "But there's so much more out there than this."

I return to the Ravenclaw common room, where Cassie intercepts me. "There you are," she says. "Where were you? If I didn't know better, I'd think you've been trying to avoid me lately."

"Heh, certainly not," I say. "I was talking to the Headmaster about some stuff."

I don't want to tell her about the possibility of the Soul Bonds before I know whether or not Tom can and will do it. There's no sense in getting her hopes up needlessly if it turns out that it's not going to work out. Bad enough that I can't avoid getting my own hopes up.

"Oh!" Cassie says. "Stuff!" She giggles.

"Yeah," I say. "Stuff."

"Moody was eyeing you suspiciously all day," Cassie says. "Did you notice?"

"Yeah," I say.

"Did you do something to warrant his attention?" Cassie asks.

"Some stuff happened last night," I say.

"More stuff?" Cassie says. "You don't need to hide anything from me, you know."

"Yeah, but we're in the common room," I say, lowering my voice. "You know I'm not going to elaborate without a privacy spell up, and I'm wary as the Abyss even then. Morag might be listening, or worse, Tonks."

"Alright, alright," Cassie murmurs, pulling out her wand. "_Muffliato_. So, what actually happened last night?"

"Tom and I performed a dark ritual at the hour of midnight on Halloween," I say. "Moody found out about it. Somehow. Despite the fact that the ritual didn't even _happen_ in this timeline. Echoes came through from the previous timeline, and he detected the magic use."

"That's not good," Cassie says.

I nod. "I cooked up a story about how we had to use dark magic to stop an attack by Voldemort on the castle. I don't know if he completely bought it or not, but either way, now he's suspicious of me."

"You think we'll have to kill him?" Cassie says.

"Maybe," I say, sighing. "I'd hate for things to start to fall apart now."

"Definitely need to keep anything incriminating from getting out," Cassie says.

"No shit," I say.

* * *

Moody continues to eye me suspiciously the rest of the week, and I could swear that I can feel someone watching me even when there's no one immediately visible. I'm too paranoid to pull out the Marauder's Map and check, though. I'd rather the existence of that item not get out, especially since it could easily blow my cover if I'm not careful.

Then, on Saturday after Theatre Club, Moody calls me into his office. I put on a figurative mask and try to hide the fact that I'm nervous about this. I try to make like I have nothing to hide. No reason to suspect me.

Moody points his wand to the door, and it locks with a click. I raise an eyebrow at him, and say, "What is this about, sir?"

Moody puts out the broken pieces of a wand on the desk, and I instantly recognize it as my old pine wand. "This is your wand, Potter?"

"Yes, sir," I say.

"You said that you lost it fighting Voldemort," Moody says. "But this was found off a murderer before then. One who looked an awful lot like an older version of you. And I _know_ you can change your age. Let me be blunt, Potter. Did you kill Yaxley?" He has his wand out and pointed at me.

I clench my teeth. He probably didn't get all of this information today. Going back to this morning won't help. "Yes, sir," I reply. "He was about to rape a first year Muggleborn girl."

Moody scowls. "The case was thoroughly covered up, but we managed to dig it out again. Potter, if what you say is true, why did you use the Killing Curse? You could have disabled him in any number of ways without resorting to an Unforgivable Curse."

"I was angry," I reply.

"And the Killing Curse is the first thing that comes to mind when you're angry?" Moody snaps. "And what if you'd missed? What if you'd hit the very person you claim you were trying to save?"

"My aim is not that bad," I retort. "And I'll point out that I went out of my way to avoid hurting the guards who came after me. They were just doing their jobs. It would have been far easier to have just killed them, too."

"And it seems like someone has clearly gone out of their way to make sure you get away with murder," Moody says. "It makes me wonder, what else have you done that's been covered up? By the way. Tonks was in the Ravenclaw common room a few days ago. Your privacy spell doesn't stop lip-reading. Turn over your wand, Potter. I'm placing you under arrest."

My heart practically stops for a moment as panic grips me. "No. I can't let you do that. I'm sorry, Moody."

But I don't go to pull out the Elder Wand and attack him. Instead, I age myself down, winking out of existence in moments.

* * *

I wake in the Ravenclaw dorms. Damn it, I'm going to need to find a way to keep this from blowing up in my face. I quickly get dressed and make my way to the Headmaster's office.

"What happened?" Tom asks. "I suddenly jumped back to the morning."

"Moody knows I killed Yaxley," I say. "And suspects even more of me."

"Ah," Tom says. "Good reason."

"Who else knows, I wonder?" I say, trembling. "And what if something is written down somewhere? Damn it, I'm not going to go to Azkaban for this."

Tom reaches out and puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Relax, Lexen. Whatever else happens, I'm _not_ going to leave you to the Dementors."

I give a nod, letting out a heavy sigh. "Thanks."

"I'll expose Yaxley as a Death Eater," Tom says. "I'll make sure his own crimes are revealed."

"Will that really excuse the use of an Unforgivable Curse?" I ask.

"Perhaps, perhaps not usually," Tom says. "But you're their supposed savior. They need you to fight the Dark Lord." Tom smirks wryly. "I'll deal with Moody."

"Alright..." I say, taking a deep breath. "I guess I've just gotten used to getting away with murder. And I got sloppy. I really should have just gone back that day and prevented things from getting out of hand. Foolish. Stupid."

"It's always easiest to see your mistakes when it's too late to do anything about them," Tom says. "At least we're in the unique position that often, we _will_ be able to do something. For now, go to breakfast, act like nothing is wrong."

"Yes, sir," I say.

At breakfast, Cassie says quietly, "Were you talking to the Headmaster again?"

"The walls have ears," I whisper.

"And the potatoes have eyes," Draco adds.

I talk about nothing while eating, and once we're full up, I drag Cassie and Draco aside into an empty classroom. I put up all the spells I know that could ensure our privacy.

"Alright, what happened?" Draco asks. "You normally don't bother with quite that many spells to keep people from listening in."

"Moody knows I murdered Yaxley," I say.

"You murdered Yaxley?" Draco says, raising an eyebrow. "Not that I really care, mind you."

"Tom said he'd take care of it," I say, sitting down heavily. "I'm just... really, really worried."

"I don't think I'm ever going to get over the fact that you call the Dark Lord _Tom_," Draco says, smirking.

Cassie puts her arms around me comfortingly. "It'll be alright. We'll get through this somehow. And if you wind up having to withdraw from Hogwarts and go into hiding, I'll be with you."

"Thanks, Cassie," I say, smiling faintly at her.

"And I will royally kick the arses of anyone who tries to take you away from me," Cassie adds fiercely.

"Not to disparage that touching comment or anything," Draco says. "But did you seriously just say you'd _kick their arses_?"

"I mean it," Cassie says, glaring a little at him.

I snicker softly. "Let him be. He always knows how to make me laugh and relax."

"He's positively irreverent sometimes," Cassie says.

"Yes, yes he is," I agree, smirking.

"Well, it's nice to know you keep me around for a reason," Draco says wryly.

We head along to Theatre Club, and I do my best to concentrate on what we're doing and put Moody out of my mind for the moment. Worrying won't make the situation any better. If things really start going wrong, I'll find myself really _wanting_ to get out of here and start over. Just when everything looks like it's going well, why does this have to come back and bite me in the tail?

This time, Moody doesn't call me into his office until after dinner. I head there nervously, wondering if things are going to work out better this time.

"Potter," Moody says. "This is your wand, isn't it?" He hands me the broken pieces of my poor pine wand.

"Yes, sir," I say.

"It has come to my attention that you apparently murdered a Death Eater rapist and saved a first year Muggleborn," Moody says. "I say, good on you. It's unfortunate that you chose to use the Killing Curse to do so, though."

"I was angry, and not really thinking things through, sir," I say.

"Understandably," Moody says. "I might've done worse to the bastard myself, if it'd been me who caught him. But, as an Auror, I should restrain that impulse and arrest him, rather than kill him outright."

"I didn't want to take the chance of him fighting back, either," I say. "Or getting out of Azkaban, like the others that escaped before. Or _ever_ having a chance to hurt another Muggle or Muggleborn."

Moody snorts. "I doubt that was all going through your mind before casting that curse, however you might justify it to yourself after the fact."

"No, sir," I say. "All that was going through my mind at the time was that a little girl was going to be hurt if I didn't stop him."

"You're damned lucky he didn't dodge," Moody says. "You could have hit her instead."

"I'm not that careless," I say.

"You're also damned lucky that Minerva informed me of Yaxley's questionable prior activities before I called you in here," Moody says. "It's no wonder this was covered up. I might have thought that the Boy-Who-Lived was a murderer."

"Give me _some_ credit, sir," I say. "I even knew Yaxley was a Death Eater long before that. I'm a time traveler, after all. Last time I met him, he _bragged_ to me about how many Muggle women he raped during the last war. I was _glad_ to have run across him and had the chance to put an end to his crimes forever."

Moody sighs. "You've got to be careful, Potter. CONSTANT VIGILANCE! This could have ended badly if you didn't have people looking out for you."

"Yes, sir," I say. "I'm sorry, sir. Sometimes... it's hard to adjust to living in a world that still has some semblance of law and order. You get used to living in a world at war, kill or be killed, and if I see someone I recognize as an enemy doing something that needs to be stopped, I'll find myself casting to kill without even stopping to think about it. It's a reflex."

Moody gives a nod. "I can understand that, Potter. Anyone who lived through the last war would. I'll help make sure this doesn't come around back at you."

"Thank you, sir," I say, giving him a bow.

"And Harry?" Moody says. "If you happen to kill anymore Death Eaters, do let me know."

"I killed Bellatrix Lestrange, too," I say, grinning a little. "But nobody actually cared about _her_."

Moody nods, giving a look of grim satisfaction as well. "Keep up the good work, Potter."


	23. Winter Romance

**Chapter 23: Winter Romance**

"What are you reading, Harry?" Cassie asks, looking over at me on the train.

"Charms textbook," I reply.

Cassie snatches the book out of my hand. "Oh, no. You are not spending the entire holiday studying. I forbid it."

I snicker softly and take the book back to put it away. "Alright, alright..." I say reluctantly. "But if I fall behind in my classes, I'm going to blame you."

"Are you really having that much trouble?" Draco says, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Much as I try to make it appear otherwise, I actually have to work at things now," I say. "Like I said before, my knowledge of the classes beyond fourth year is scattered at best."

"Well, _I'll_ help you with it," Cassie says. "You've just been spending so much time studying, between reading in the common room, dueling with me, and your sessions with _Tom_..."

"At least Moody seems to have eased off on me," I say.

"He's still watching you all the time," Draco says.

"Probably trying to keep an eye out for my safety or something," I say. "He tried to convince me to come to an Order safehouse for Christmas. Said my home wasn't safe. I refused."

"Maybe you should stop blowing off the Order all the time," Cassie says. "Humor them from time to time to make sure they don't get suspicious of you."

"Probably," I say, shrugging. "Right now, I just want to have a nice holiday."

"At least Slughorn isn't staying with us anymore," Cassie says. "I mean, not that I can complain about the Slug Club parties or anything..."

"But he's a little overenthusiastic?" Draco says wryly. "But you've still got the Heir of Atlantis staying with you."

I snicker in amusement. "She went from being 'that annoyingly smart Mudblood with a crush on you who is obsessed with house-elf rights' to 'the Heir of Atlantis', hmm?"

"Shut up," Draco says, smirking.

When we arrive back at Caer Danas, Sirius is eager to greet Cassie and me. "Finally, a break from dealing with Order crap."

"If you don't like doing it, why don't you quit?" I say.

"It's nothing to do with what I like or not," Sirius says. "Voldemort's bad news, and we've got to fight him, or we're all screwed."

"I can deal with him myself," I say, shrugging.

"By going to school and ignoring the Order?" Sirius says.

"We defended against an attack on Hogwarts itself on Halloween," I say.

"I didn't hear about that," Sirius says.

"Moody didn't say anything?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

Sirius shakes his head. "Maybe I'm just out of the loop."

I shrug. "Doesn't matter, anyway. Nothing really happened, so far as anyone else is concerned, thanks to the intervention of me and the Headmaster."

"Speaking of which," Sirius says. "_Why_ is Headmaster Riddle living here again?"

"Do _you_ want to tell him to leave?" I say. "I'll hex you if you try. He's more than welcome under my roof."

"It just seems, I don't know, a little _weird_," Sirius says.

"Quite a bit better than all of the people the Order had holed up here before," I say. "If I don't know the names of everyone staying in my house, something is wrong."

"I guess there's a point to that," Sirius says.

* * *

The next morning after breakfast, I find the door to the library locked. Frowning a little, I point my wand at it and murmur, "_Alohomora_," and quietly step inside.

Tom and Cassie are in the library, facing off from across a table. An old book lays open on the table between them. I relock the door and approach.

"What's going on here?" I say, peering between two fierce faces.

"Your _girlfriend_ here stole from me," Tom says.

"I did not," Cassie says.

"Then explain why you have _this_," Tom says, pointing at the book. Upon closer inspection, I recognize it immediately as the _Codex Veritatum_.

"Erm," I say, "Cassie didn't steal that. I did."

"I told you," Cassie says, folding her arms across her chest and looking at Tom defensively.

"_You_ did?" Tom says, looking at me.

I nod. "I took it from the Chamber of Secrets shortly after my most recent reset."

"You are a Parselmouth?" Tom hisses at me, and I blink at him for a moment. That sounded like English, except, _not_ English. He definitely seemed to be hissing.

"Was that Parseltongue?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Tom says. "So you aren't a Parselmouth?"

"I wasn't at the time," I say. "I understood you just fine now, though. At the time, I only knew the word to get inside, '_open_." I repeat the one word I knew before in a hiss, and to my ears, it sounds clearly understandable now.

"I see," Tom says.

"How can someone _become_ a Parselmouth?" Cassie wonders.

"I have a theory, but we'll speak of this later, Lexen," Tom says.

"And it took you four years to notice that this book was missing from Slytherin's library?" I say. "Or even a year and a half since you took over as Headmaster?"

"I was otherwise occupied," Tom says. "And what have _you_ been doing with it?" he directs to Cassie.

"I was studying it," Cassie says. "It's quite fascinating. It seems to suggest the existence of alternate universes and the potential of time travel."

Tom gives a nod. "I _thought_ there was something in Slytherin's libary about that, hence why I was looking for it. Imagine my surprise to find it missing when I hadn't known there were any other Parselmouths around."

I snicker softly. "If there's something strange going on, it's probably somehow my fault, even if bizarrely indirectly sometimes."

Tom takes the book and says, "I'm going to go and study this in private. Lexen, do come and see me later, perhaps after dinner." He heads out of the room, leaving me alone with Cassie.

Cassie just shakes her head. "How did you become a Parselmouth? I always thought that was something you have to be born with."

"I'm not entirely sure," I say.

I suspect that, during the ritual that gave Tom some of my abilities, I gained some of his as well. So. Tom is immortal, and I get to speak to snakes. This doesn't really strike me as an even tradeoff. I might be offended about it, if I cared. As it is, I just find it kind of amusing.

"I should give him a piece of my mind for accusing me of _stealing_," Cassie says. "It's not like that book belonged to him in the first place."

"He actually _is_ the Heir of Slytherin, though," I say. "So, technically, I suppose it _is_ rightfully his."

"Oh, don't refute my indignity with logic," Cassie says, smirking. "It's impolite."

After dinner, I head over to Tom's room, and break through the Locking Charm with a muttered, "_Alohomora_." I head inside and point my wand at the door, and lock it again with a "_Colloportus_."

"Lexen," Tom says. "Didn't think anyone else was likely to be able to break that spell."

He's sitting on his bed, reading the _Codex Veritatum_ casually, wearing pajamas and bunny slippers. It's a fairly embarrassing image, really.

"Do you really need to dress like that?" I say.

"I'm in the privacy of my own room," Tom says. "Why should I not?"

"You have bunny slippers!" I protest.

"They're made from real vorpal bunnies," Tom says.

"_Vorpal_ bunnies?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

"Vicious things," Tom says. "They're even classified as danger level XXXXX. They can rip a wizard's throat out in an instant if you aren't careful."

"But... they're bunnies," I say.

"Looks can be deceiving," Tom says, grinning at me. "I made these myself. It was quite the battle."

I stare at him for a moment. "You know, I'm just going to take your word on that." I smirk.

"Now," Tom hisses. "It would appear that you have also gained some of my abilities. I suppose I should not be surprised. You can understand this? Can you speak it as well?"

"I can understand you," I say, frowning a little as I try to figure out how to reply in the snake language as well. "I'm not sure how I might speak in it. Is this working?"

Tom shakes his head. "English."

I try to focus a bit, imagining myself speaking to an actual snake, and thinking of the words I've heard spoken in Parseltongue before. "How about now?"

"Now you've got it," Tom hisses back.

"It seems really weird to be speaking a language I didn't learn," I hiss. "But wasn't this a hereditary power?"

"As I said, you probably gained it through your connection to me," Tom says, switching back to English.

"I wonder what other of my abilities you might have gained," I say.

"Your age-changing power, perhaps?" Tom says.

"Be careful with that, if you do try it out," I say. "It's a quick way to die if you go too far in either direction. I learned that the hard way." I shift around my own age a bit to demonstrate, giving a quick explanation of how it's done, and leave myself at twenty when I'm done.

Tom concentrates for a few moments, and slowly he seems to grow older. Not the rapid, almost intantaneous age shifting that I've gotten used to doing, but carefully controlling it. Then he grows younger again, years shedding from him a little more quickly, but still being cautious. After going down to about five years old, he returns back to the age of twenty or so again.

"The clothes don't change?" Tom says. "That could be inconvenient."

"That's why I bought clothes charmed to automatically adjust themselves," I say.

"I didn't realize you could kill yourself so easily," Tom says. "One wonders why you didn't do so in order to escape from Bellatrix's torment."

"I was weak, and couldn't concentrate," I say, looking at the floor. "Couldn't get into the right mentalstate, either. For a while there, I'd completely lost hope."

Tom gets up and comes over to me. "And when has despair ever solved anything?"

"I would have done anything to break the loop at that point," I say, giving him a hard look. "I even begged you to stop it as well as I could, but you just left me to it..."

"You had a lesson to learn," Tom replies.

"You planned it, didn't you," I say darkly, narrowing my eyes at him dangerously.

"I did," Tom admits.

"You lied to me!" I growl, grabbing him and pushing him against the wall. "You told me- you _told_ me that you hadn't planned that!"

"Had I spoken the truth, you would have attacked me," Tom says.

"You don't know that," I say. "I don't know that, either. Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn't."

"I wasn't going to take the chance," Tom says.

"And you're not afraid that I might do something to you _now_?" I snarl.

"You don't even have your wand out," Tom says. "You clearly aren't actually serious about that."

I sigh, pressing my palms against the wall at his sides. "I can't afford to hold a grudge against you. But I want to know why. _Why_ did you do this to me? Tell me the truth."

"Are you certain that the truth is really what you want?" Tom asks.

"Absolutely," I say.

"Very well," Tom says. "I wanted you on my side, no matter what I had to do in order to gain your loyalty. But if I tortured you like that myself, you would merely hate me. Instead, I manipulated Bellatrix into doing so, thinking she was hurting you out of jealousy. I knew that, if pushed hard enough, you would find a way to kill her. Or alternatively, if a different set of circumstances arose, you might demand her death before you would serve me. I sacrificed a pawn to gain a queen."

My heart is pounding as I stare at him, gazing hard into blood red eyes, rage burning in my veins. "Of course," I say in a harsh voice. "I would appreciate, in the future, that if you want to hurt me, that you _do so yourself_."

"Now, you know my reasons," Tom says. "What are you going to do about it?"

I continue to fix my eyes upon his. I want to hurt him like never before. "That's it? Just an explanation. No remorse. No apologies."

"Would you accept them if I offered them?" Tom asks.

"Well, we're not going to find out, I guess, will we," I say bitterly.

"Then how about this?" Tom says. He leans down and plants his lips firmly on mine, putting his arms around me to hold me tightly as he kisses me passionately for a few moments.

I pull away with a bit of a struggle, and snap, "No. That's not good enough."

"No?" Tom says. He puts on a good mask, but I can't help but think he looks disappointed. Maybe even hurt. Well, it would serve him right.

"You owe me," I growl. "You owe me quite a fucking bit. And I _will_ have my repayment."

"And what would you ask of me?" Tom says.

"I can't afford this," I say. "We have to be able to trust each other, even if no one else in the whole of the multiverse might be trusted. This is absurd."

"Is it?" Tom says. "I wanted to be certain of your loyalties."

I stare at him for a long moment. From a certain point of view, it makes sense. "Did it ever occur to you that you didn't have to do that?" I say quietly.

"Didn't I?" Tom says, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm a bloody Ravenclaw, remember?" I say. "If you'd offered me knowledge from the start, I would have been falling all over myself for it. I would _kill_ to know half the things you know."

"And when you had learned everything you wanted to learn, what then?" Tom says. "Could I have trusted that you wouldn't have thought you had no further need of me, and destroyed me with the very knowledge I had given you?"

That makes me pause. "Point," I concede. "I would not have done that, but you would have no way of knowing that."

"The situation has completely changed now," Tom says. "Now, given our current circumstances, I _will_ do anything in order to make you happy."

"It's not like I'm going to go out of my way to piss you off, either," I say. "I might think I hold all the cards, but I won't put it past you to figure out some way to possess me or something if I should anger you."

"True," Tom says.

I shake my head. "But let's not do that. Let's not turn existence into a constant series of negotiations, backstabbing, always wondering who can trust who and to what extent. I refuse to live like that. Things will be so much more pleasant if we can trust one another."

Tom says, "Trust isn't an easy thing for ones such as us."

"No shit," I say, sighing and rubbing my head. "What's done is done. I can change the past, but I can't change what I've experienced."

"I could always Obliviate you," Tom suggests.

I shake my head. "No way. No fucking way. I hate Obliviation. I would rather you torture me yourself than Obliviate me."

"Would you really?" Tom says, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, and I know, I'm obviously insane," I say, smirking. I sigh again and step up close to him, and say more gently, "Especially when, as angry as I might have been, I still couldn't bring myself to hurt you."

Tom puts his arms around me, and I lean against him, allowing myself to be comforted, trembling a little. My own thoughts and emotions are so confused and complicated that I can't make sense of them myself.

"Damn it," I whisper. "Damn it, why don't I hate you? Why can't I hate you? You've done horrible things to me. You kidnapped me, held me prisoner, tortured me, manipulated me, had me tortured repeatedly..."

"It's not like I _wanted_ to hurt you," Tom murmurs. "I just had to teach you a lesson."

I snort softly. "Merlin, we're both fucked up, aren't we." I laugh bitterly. "Sanity's a relative thing sometimes, isn't it."

"I'm as sane as I was when I was actually sixteen," Tom says.

I turn away, and go to look out the window, leaning against the wide windowsill. The air outside is lit by cold, bright sunlight, but there isn't any snow on the ground around here at the moment. Tom comes up and takes a seat on the windowsill next to me.

"I want you to bring Cassie in on this," I say, not looking at him. "I want to be able to travel the multiverse with her as well."

"I see," Tom says flatly.

"This is _not_ negotiable," I say, turning to glare at him. "You owe me. I'm sick of seeing this stupid jealousy between you two."

"Fine," Tom says, a little roughly. "If that's how it must be, then so be it. If she's the one that you really want to be with, then I will content myself with merely gaining immortality from our deal."

"I didn't say that," I say.

"What do you mean?" Tom says.

I sit down and lean against the side of the window. "It's not like I don't actually want to be with you, too," I murmur.

"So, you want to travel the multiverse with me, exploring other worlds, gaining knowledge... you just are only actually _interested_ in Cassie," Tom says.

I rub my head. "Damn it, Tom, that's not it at all." I lean close. "I... I do love you, Tom. I love both of you. And I would not wish to be without either of you. Can you understand that?"

Tom stares at me for a long moment. "You... aren't much of a believer in monogamy, are you."

"Is that a problem?" I ask.

"I'm just a little surprised, is all," Tom says, and laughs softly. "And here Cassie has been trying to 'win' your heart, and I've been thinking that I've already won, and you weren't even thinking on the same level at all, were you."

"I never wanted this to turn into any sort of stupid contest," I say. "And if Cassie isn't willing to accept that either, then so be it."

"I see," Tom says. "And who else have you been in love with, Lexen?"

"Hmm," I say, thinking for a moment. "Draco. Snape. Sirius. Katrina Krum. This one fellow in the last world I was in by the name of Trajkov."

"Really," Tom drawls.

"However, most of them weren't even interested in men, anyway," I say. "Especially not Katrina. Despite being married, for some reason."

"You were married?" Tom says, raising an eyebrow.

"It's a long story and wouldn't have made sense even if you'd been there," I say. "I know it certainly didn't to me."

"I'll take your word on that," Tom says.

I sigh. "So, what will it be?" I say.

"I might advise you against making too many bonds," Tom says. "Although they would not have the same negative effects of Horcruxes, too many of them might still wind up with unfortunate side effects that we cannot anticipate."

I give a nod. "You do make a good argument. I've run afoul of some magic I shouldn't have messed with myself, and I'm _still_ not sure if it left any permanent damage on my mind. But I can be pretty sure that it changed me in some way."

"What's more, there could be the danger that if you form too many links, your own magic may not be able to pull all of those bound to you back," Tom says. "Spreading your time powers too thin, in effect. We know that one bond works, and it would be safest to stick with that."

"I'm not willing to accept that, however," I say. "Hmm. Nine of the number of power for Time Magic. Perhaps we could aim for eight bonds."

Tom puts his face in his palm. "That is exactly the sort of thinking that led me to destroying my own mind making multiple Horcruxes."

"Perhaps it's dangerous," I say. "But I'm willing to take the chance. You can keep an eye on me, and if it seems like it's pushing it too far, we can stop and maybe even sever some of the ones that were already made."

"Fine," Tom says. "Fine. Would you want to form bonds with all of those you mentioned before, then?"

"No," I say. "Certainly not. I haven't even _met_ some of them in this life. But Cassie, definitely. I'd say, make sure that works out before trying to expand it any further."

"At least you have that much sense," Tom says. "Eight bonds..." He shakes his head and sighs. He grabs me and pulls me close with a fierceness that surprises me.

"You think this is a terrible idea, don't you," I say.

"Dark magic is never without risks," Tom says. "This could have incredible potential for power if it works out, but it also has incredible potential for disaster."

"I don't know how to make these bonds myself," I say. "I'm at the mercy of your judgment. If _you_ think it's too risky, then I will have to content myself with what I have, and leave it at that."

Tom shakes his head. "No. I'm willing to risk it. I am... curious to see what might be accomplished with it myself."

"Shall we talk to Cassie?" I say.

"Let's talk to her in the morning," Tom whispers in my ear.

I turn to look at him, and he kisses me hard, pushing me down against the windowsill. Clearly, he has other ideas on how to spend the night.

* * *

In the morning, Tom and I come down to breakfast. Cassie looks up at us and says, "Good morning. What were you doing last night?" My face suddenly burns. "You need to work on the blushing thing." She snorts softly. "No wonder you didn't come back to your room last night."

"You were in my room last night?" I ask.

"I was waiting for you," Cassie says bitterly.

"Oh," I say. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Cassie says flatly. "If that's... if that's really what you want to do, then don't let me stop you."

"Cassie..." I say.

She shakes her head and goes to stalk out of the room.

"Cassie, wait!" I say, rushing after her and grabbing her arm.

Cassie shakes me off. "Thank you for reminding me why I never bothered with men."

"I think you would do well to listen to what he has to say," Tom says. "He refused to back down with regards to you, even when he knew that his own soul would be at risk."

"What?" Cassie says, stopping and looking at me.

"Why don't we go somewhere private?" I say. "There's a lot to talk about."

Cassie sighs. "Fine, I'll hear you out, if I must. But you'd better have a good explanation for this."

We head off to the library, and I seal the room to prevent any interruptions. I let out a heavy sigh.

"I'm listening," Cassie says, folding her arms across her chest and giving me a hard look.

"I love you, Cassie," I say.

"You could have fooled me, when you decided to hole up in _Tom's_ room all night," Cassie says.

"I love Tom, too," I say.

Cassie rolls her eyes. "So which will it be? It would seem to me like you've already decided upon _Tom_ instead of me."

"Cassie, I don't want to have to choose between you," I say. "Nothing would make me happier than to be able to explore the multiverse with all of those that I care about."

"Explore the... multiverse?" Cassie says.

"I'm not from this universe," I say. "I'm an interdimensional traveler. There's countless worlds out there, many of them very, very different from Earth, and I'd very much like to see all of them. But exploring them would be so much better with a group of people I love and trust at my side."

Cassie stares at me for a long moment. "Exploring... the multiverse..."

"I wanted to see what all of the different worlds might have to offer," I say. "Learn everything that I can. Some worlds know how to do things that would be completely unheard of on other worlds. There's so much to see, so much to do, so much to learn... it's a great adventure. And one that I'd very much love to share with you, Cassie."

"Tell me more about this exploring the multiverse thing," Cassie says.

I chuckle softly. I tell her about Torn Elkandu and the Nexus, and a little about the different worlds I've seen so far. I describe the Soul Bond ritual Tom came up with that would allow me to take more than one person with me when I die.

"Alright, I'm in," Cassie says. "I'm still not sure that I like the idea of having to share you with Tom, but I'll let that slide for the sake of _exploring the multiverse_."

"I'm glad to hear it," I say, going over to give Cassie a kiss.

"So, when can we do this ritual?" Cassie asks.

"I'm not sure," I say. "Let's ask Tom."

We go out and drag Tom into the library as well. "So, have you decided to come with us?" Tom asks.

"I'll do it," Cassie says. "For the record, I still don't like you, though."

Tom just laughs. "I'm just doing this to make Lexen happy."

"So when can we perform this ritual Lexen mentioned?" Cassie says.

"We should be able to do it at midnight on the Winter Solstice," Tom says. "It would be safer to wait for next Halloween though. I'm not certain that I've entirely worked out everything that needs to be done sufficiently."

Cassie gives a nod. "I can wait. Make sure you have everything down properly, and dark magic is stronger on Halloween than on the Solstice. But don't even think about leaving me behind. I... I want to see what's out there..."

"It'll be glorious," I say, beaming broadly.


	24. Clashing Darkness

**Chapter 24: Clashing Darkness**

On Boxing Day, Rispy comes up to talk to me alone while I'm studying in my room late at night.

"Can I speak with you for a moment?" Rispy asks.

"Of course," I say. "Anytime. What's on your mind?"

"Are you intending on overthrowing the magical government, or taking it over from within?" Rispy asks.

I look at him with a touch of startlement. I hadn't realized he'd been paying that close of attention to what's going on inside this house, but I suppose it shouldn't surprise me. "Whichever turns out to be necessary. I would prefer to avoid too much bloodshed if at all possible."

Rispy gives a nod. "I have some concerns about your allies, however. The people you have allied yourself with seem to be the sorts who are _worst_ toward my people."

"It's a holdover from the last war," I say. "I'm sure Tom has been trying to acquire better allies himself."

"The fact that you've allied yourself with the Dark Lord has me worried," Rispy says. "What assurance do I have that, if you do manage to take control of magical society, you'll actually support the welfare of my people?"

"You have my word on it," I say. "What other assurance can I give you?"

"Free me, and get the Fidelius Charm removed from this building," Rispy says.

"If that's what you really want, then so be it," I say with a touch of disappointment.

"I do," Rispy says.

I nod, and pull out a blue scarf from my bag. "Then you can consider yourself a free elf again."

Rispy takes the scarf from me, and says, "Thank you."

"I'll ask Tom in the morning if he knows a way to remove the charm," I say.

"Go see him now," Rispy says. "He's still awake. He's in the library."

"Alright," I say, getting up to head over there. I'm wearing my dragon pajamas, but I don't bother to change. I don't really care at the moment.

Tom isn't alone in the library, however. He's sitting at the table across from Cassie. They don't seem to notice my presence there at first. Probably didn't hear the door open over their raised voices.

"If you're trying to seduce me, Tom, I'm not interested!" Cassie snaps.

"Considering what we're offering you, you should try to be a little more-" Tom stops in mid-sentence as he sees me. "Ah, good evening."

"What's going on here?" I wonder.

"Ah, Cassiopeia and I were merely having a little conversation," Tom says.

"A little conversation?" Cassie practically shrieks. "You-"

"Calm down!" I say firmly.

"Calm down?" Cassie says. "Why should I calm down when _this_ man thinks he can get into my robes now?"

Tom rolls his eyes, and says, "Believe me, Cassiopeia, that was not my intention."

I sigh. "Are we going to be unable to get along here?"

"I can get along _fine_," Cassie says. "But I will not be sexually harassed by this Mudblood!"

Tom snorts softly and says in annoyance, "I am a half-blood, thank you. And I'm the Heir of Slytherin!"

I rub my head. "Cassie, that's enough."

"But-" Cassie protests.

"_Enough_," I say. "I'm surprised to hear that from you. I will not put up with any blood purist bullshit in my house."

"But..." Cassie begins.

I shake my head. "Don't. Just don't."

Cassie sinks down in her chair and lets out a heavy sigh, looking down. "I'm sorry," she murmurs softly.

"Apology accepted," Tom says.

"Alright," I say, leaning forward against the table. "Now, Tom, what were you saying to Cassie?"

"I was trying to tell her that if we are to be traveling the multiverse together, then we should get along a little better," Tom says. "She, however, took this entirely the wrong way."

I put my face in my palm. "Nothing is ever easy," I mutter. "Why can't we all just get along?"

"I am willing to accommodate her for your sake," Tom says. "She makes you happy and you clearly enjoy her presence. I have no need to feel threatened by her. She, on the other hand, does not see things that way."

"You're damned right I don't," Cassie mutters. "You took my man away from me. You kidnapped him and coerced him into your grand schemes."

"That was his choice," Tom says.

"And I don't care about this whole war against the wizarding world you are trying to start!" Cassie says. "I wanted to finally have a chance to get married, have children, see them go off to Hogwarts themselves!"

"What about exploring the multiverse?" I say.

"It's an appealing idea," Cassie says. "But it can wait. I can afford to be patient. There's all of eternity to be had, isn't there?"

"Do you _really_ want children?" I say.

"Yes. No. Maybe. I don't know," Cassie says. "It was one of the things I always regreted, long after it was too late to do anything about it. By the time I realized that I was going to die alone, I was already old and had spent my entire life doing magical research of one sort or another."

"I wouldn't call that a wasted life," Tom says.

Cassie shakes her head. "And my niece died, one grand-niece and my grand-nephew were imprisoned, another grand-niece disowned from the family, and my brother died, and my cousin... Narcissa was about the only family I had left, and she was with the Malfoys." She pauses and takes a deep breath, and looks at me. "And then you came along, and hope beyond hope, you gave me another chance at life. You never told me why you did it. You never asked anything of me for it."

"It was a whim," I say. "I didn't even realize I _could_ do it, but I wanted to try. And I'm very glad that I did."

"And now... Now you offer me, what? Immortality, untold knowledge?" Cassie says. "How could I say no to that? I just..." She looks to Tom and punctuates her words with her finger. "I. Don't. Like. You."

"That's your prerogative," Tom says smoothly. "But do you think I wish to spend eternity with someone who insists on being so needlessly antagonistic toward me?"

"No," Cassie replies. "If I were you, I'd have thrown me out long ago. Or killed me. Or worse. Maybe gotten Lexen to hate me and then coerced him into torturing me to death."

Tom grins broadly at her. "It's clear what Lexen sees in you."

"I'm not sure if this should be considered a good thing or a bad thing," I say.

Tom goes on, "But tell me. What do you see in _him_? Was it just because he let you have a second chance to live?"

Cassie shakes her head. "Certainly not. I could be grateful for that, but it wouldn't have convinced me to give this whole... romance thing a chance. Aside from never having had a chance with it before."

"Are we talking about _feelings_ now?" I say wryly. "You seem to have more difficulty with that than I do."

Cassie blushes a little. "You're not supposed to be more feminine than me, damn it."

"What does being feminine have to do with anything?" I say.

"Anyway," Cassie says with a snort. "You want to know what I see in him? I see a nice guy who is willing to go to extreme lengths to help others, and yet isn't blinded by the whole idea of 'light is good, dark is evil'. He sees things for what they are, and isn't willing to let anything get in his way when he sets his mind on something."

"Is that it?" Tom says, raising an eyebrow.

"It's complicated!" Cassie protests.

"I'd rather not be waiting for an eternity for you to figure out your 'it's complicated'," Tom says dryly.

"Forget it," I say. "We can figure it out later. Now, for why I was actually looking for you. Do you know how to get the Fidelius Charm off of this building?"

"Ah," Tom says. "Yes. I'll need the assistance of the Secret-Keeper, but I know how to do it."

"Rispy asked himself, so I'm sure he'll do whatever is necessary to be rid of it," I say.

"Rispy is a very peculiar elf," Tom says. "I will go and take care of that." He nods to me and Cassie, and leaves the two of us alone in the library.

Once Tom is gone, Cassie sighs and looks at me. "I'm sorry, I-"

I raise my hand to interrupt her. "I appreciate the sentiment. But you don't need to apologize to me."

"I just don't understand how you can, well, _like_ him, after all he's done to you," Cassie says. "But... that's your choice, I suppose. I won't begrudge you that."

"Make it work," I say. "Otherwise..."

"You're already bound to him," Cassie says quietly, looking away. "He has the advantage here, and I know it. But I'm not going to be scared of him, and neither am I going to let him push me around."

"I don't think he expects that," I say. "_I_ don't let him push me around either, Dark Lord or no."

"Good," Cassie says. She leans over and gives me a kiss. "I'll deal with it, Lexen. It's worth it. You're worth it."

I smile at her. "I'm glad to hear that. I don't want to walk into another argument like this again, alright?"

"It won't happen again," Cassie says. "I promise."

* * *

"Are you struggling with the material, Potter?" Grindelwald says, almost mockingly.

I'm sitting in his office, alone this time, in mid-January. I'm glad that Moody doesn't know I'm here. I hate to think that I can't trust Moody, but that's the way it is, considering the sides I've chosen.

"I've just been busy with a lot of things," I say. "Studying for OWLs and all."

"I'm told that you breezed through your first few years," Grindelwald says. "Are you starting to fall behind now that things are getting a little bit tough?"

"No," I say. It has taken quite a bit of work _not_ to fall behind, and even so, I have still let some of my classes slide a little in favor of others. Like History of Magic.

"Just having the Elder Wand isn't everything," Grindelwald says. "Power, without skill or knowledge, and certainly without experience. What do you think you're going to do with that?"

"I'm going to learn, first and foremost," I reply. "I'm going to become one of the greatest wizards in the universe."

"And then what?" Grindelwald says. "Planning to take over the world?"

"Maybe," I say. "What's it to you?"

Grindelwald snorts. "I say you're just some upstart would-be Dark Lord."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Why do you think that?"

"You're no different than Voldemort," Grindelwald says. "Another generation, another Dark Lord."

"Why would you think that I, of all people, would be a Dark Lord?" I say.

"Oh, you put on the act of the model student," Grindelwald says. "You put on a good mask for the public, just like you do in Theatre Club. But don't think I can't see through it. I might not be allowed to carry a wand, but I can still feel it in you. You're as dark as they get."

"You can _tell_ that?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

"I was a Dark Lord myself once, you know," Grindelwald says. "If you've been paying attention in my class, anyway. That's not just a meaningless title, a grandiose appelation given by oneself with no real weight behind it."

"But I thought Dumbledore was a light wizard..." I say.

"He was," Grindelwald says. "He was the Light Lord, and I the Dark. An alliance the likes of which magic hadn't seen in centuries. We would have ruled the world together. But he betrayed me, despite having been in love with me once."

"Wait a minute," I say. "Dumbledore was in love with you?"

"Try to keep up," Grindelwald says, smirking. "Although I don't know if there's even a Light Lord alive now, with Dumbledore gone."

"There can be more than one alive at once?" I say. "I mean, you're still alive, and Voldemort has been around for a while..."

"There can," Grindelwald says. "It's not an exclusive title. But you seeking to fight Voldemort yourself, a half-trained dark wizard going up against a Dark Lord? Foolishness. I have no love for Voldemort myself, but you are only going to get yourself killed this way."

"Are you trying to mock me, discourage me, or are you actually concerned for my well-being?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

"Neither," Grindelwald says. "I'd like to see you defeat Voldemort, however. A true Dark Lord does not fear death."

"What does it mean to be a Dark Lord?" I say.

"Magical attunement," Grindelwald. "If you want more information than that, then you'll have to earn it." He grins at me.

"If you're trying to bargain for information, I'm not interested," I say. If I really want to know, I can always just ask Tom.

"Aren't you?" Grindelwald says. "Just think. You could match your enemy as an equal. You might even have a hope of succeeding."

"And what, praytell, would you ask in exchange for information like this?" I wonder.

Grindelwald glances around the office, but there's certainly no one else in here, and I already cast spells to make sure to avoid eavesdroppers. "I'm not even inclined to ask for much," Grindelwald says. "But is freedom too much to ask for?"

I sigh. "No, it's not." Whatever I might think of him, I can't deny him that.

"Much as I don't mind teaching history here, all this has done is serve to remind me of what I've lost," Grindelwald says. "For years, I yearned for vengeance upon all those who wronged me. But now most of them are dead. And I didn't even get the chance to kill Dumbledore for his betrayal..."

"I didn't know," I say, sighing. "Look, Grindelwald. You want another chance at life? I can give you that. I can give you more than you realize. But it will cost you."

"Of course," Grindelwald says.

"I'm going to have to ask for your _absolute loyalty_," I say. "I can't afford anything short of that. Not for this." I shake my head a little. "After the spring term ends, come to Caer Danas. Gellert Grindelwald can be put to rest, and you can start a new life. You can start over again."

Grindelwald looks at me consideringly. "I don't even know that you can do what you claim."

I chuckle softly, wink, and say, "Tell you a secret?" I focus on my Time Magic and give him a small demonstration, up to sixty years old, down to five, then back to fifteen again.

Grindelwald stares at me speechlessly.

"I can do it for others, too, but it's harder for me," I say. "Oh, and if _you_ ever betray _me_, I'm not going to lock you up. I'm going to kill you. Slowly."

Grindelwald clearly doesn't know what to make of this. "I need to think on this."

I give a nod. "Do so." I turn and leave the office.

* * *

"Potter, I believe we have a situation," Snape says.

"Harry," I say.

"_Harry_, we have a situation," Snape says, smirking at me.

"It's almost Easter holidays," I say. "Do you think something's likely to happen over them?"

"Possibly," Snape says. "I think we may have a leak."

"A leak?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

"The Order has gotten its hands on some information it should not have," Snape says. "And they strongly suspect you and Riddle."

"This could be bad," I say. "Have you told him yet?"

"Not yet," Snape says.

I smirk. "Or were you hoping that I would tell him? You know, he's not quite so inclined to Crucio the messenger these days, even for bad news."

"And you don't do it at all," Snape says.

"I would if they deserved it," I say.

"I'm certain that Lily would be pleased at your willingness to torture others," Snape says, scowling at me.

"Only if they deserved it," I say. "Or would you say that Rodolphus Lestrange didn't deserve it?"

"I will concede your point," Snape says.

"Does the Order know who Tom Riddle really is?" I ask.

"I believe they have realized that," Snape says. "They have no proof, but the suspicion is bad enough. Worse that you are connected to it."

"They don't know about Dumbledore, do they?" I ask.

"No, I do not believe so," Snape says. "They do, however, seem to think that he's trying to corrupt and seduce Miss Black. I was specifically instructed to look out for her."

I blink for a moment. "But, they know who she really is. Not exactly much to corrupt, is there?"

"She never served the Dark Lord before, however," Snape says.

"Do you have any idea where they might have gotten their information?" I say.

"I had been hoping that you would be able to answer that question," Snape says. "Whatever information they have, they gained weeks ago if not months. At least they do not yet suspect _my_ allegiance."

I think back with a sigh. "We're normally pretty paranoid about making sure to avoid anything slipping. But we might have gotten careless over Christmas holidays." I think back to a certain argument on Boxing Day, where I'd heard the yelling out in the hallway, and the door wasn't even locked. I sigh and put my face in my palm. "Merlin, I think someone might have overheard _that_ conversation..."

"Who else is staying at your house?" Snape says.

"Cassie, Tom, and myself, of course," I say. "Sirius, Remus, and Hermione were also present. I don't think Hermione is likely, but Sirius or Remus? Definitely."

Snape scowls. "Their opinion of you is outright dangerous at the moment. They believe you have been turned to the Dark Lord's side, willingly or otherwise. They may definitely try something."

"Moody has certainly been watching me lately," I say. "But he's been doing that all year."

"Be on your guard," Snape says. "You may not get anymore warning than this before anything comes of it."

"I'm lucky to have had this much," I say. "Thank you." I bow my head to him gratefully.

That evening, I haul Cassie to the Headmaster's office, and tell Tom everything that Snape and I discussed.

"You think Sirius or Remus overheard our conversation in the library?" Cassie says, eyes widening.

"It may already be too late to cover up their suspicions," Tom says. "We may need to take another angle."

"Discredit the Order of the Phoenix?" I say.

"Whittle away their support any way we can," Tom says, nodding to me in agreement. "The _Daily Prophet_ hasn't exactly been painting them in a favorable light as it is."

"I could get _The Quibbler_ to print something, I think," I say. "Not that most people take that seriously."

"Having the press on your side is a good thing, even ones like _The Quibbler_," Tom says.

"I'll talk to Luna then, and see what we can whip up," I say.

Cassie is looking at the floor. "I'm sorry about this. It's my fault."

"We all got complacent," I say. "Don't blame yourself. Just remind me in the future to have a headquarters in which we can make absolutely certain of the loyalty of anyone that might ever be present, so we wouldn't _need_ to worry about anyone overhearing anything they aren't supposed to."

"Indeed," Tom says, nodding to me. "I have been working on Hermione. Quite the bright girl, and she has figured out more than you would imagine. I doubt she will be a problem."

"What have you been _telling_ her?" I ask.

"Oh, the true nature of the dichotomy between light and dark magic, the corruption in magical government... I've even taught her a little dark magic, as well," Tom says. "She picks up on things very quickly. It's quite refreshing, after dealing with the likes of Crabbe and Goyle." He snorts in disgust.

"She's smarter than _I_ am, to be sure," I say. "I could only _wish_ I could cast so many spells correctly on the first try. Even with simple charms, I've often had to try several times to get them right."

"We may want to rethink our Easter plans," Tom says. "Caer Danas may not be the best place to go."

"If we change our plans, however, it will tip them off that we know they suspect us," I say. "They'll know that they have a spy in their ranks."

"We'll have to go back to Caer Danas," Cassie says. "We'll need to be careful, though."

Tom nods, and pulls out a piece of parchment. "I'll deal with the _Prophet_. Speak with the Lovegood girl when you get the chance. Best get back to your common room, before curfew."

* * *

Easter holiday at Caer Danas is tense. Tom, Cassie, and I all put on good masks, playing like we do not know that Sirius or Remus, or both of them perhaps, have betrayed us.

The evening after we arrive home, I'm reading a bit in my lightning bolt pajamas, when there's a knock on my bedroom door. I get up to answer it.

"Hey," Sirius says, peering into the room. "Mind if I come in?"

I tilt my head and gesture him to come in, and close the door behind him. "Hope you haven't been too bored around here."

"Harry..." Sirius says. "I'm worried about you. Maybe I should have talked to you before, during Christmas holidays."

"You could have at least sent an owl," I say, shrugging. "Is there a problem?"

"Are you sure it's a good idea to allow Riddle to stay here?" Sirius says.

I sigh. "Do you have a problem with the Headmaster? Beyond that it's 'weird'."

"Yes, in fact, I do," Sirius says. "Harry, is there anything you want to talk to me about? Anything that you've been keeping from me?"

"If I've been lying to you, asking me about it won't get me to tell the truth," I say.

"I want to know what really happened last summer," Sirius says. "When you claimed to have fought Voldemort. Did he hurt you? Did he do something to you?"

"Are you doubting that I really fought the Dark Lord?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

"You disappeared for several days without a word," Sirius says. "And Riddle told us that you'd decided to spend some time at the Malfoys'. What really happened, though?"

I sigh again. "Sirius..."

"Harry, I'm asking because I'm worried about you," Sirius says. "I was convinced... I don't know what I was convinced of. I'm not even sure anymore that you're really Harry Potter."

I blink at him. "Why would you think I'm not?"

"I've heard Cassie call you 'Lexen'," Sirius says. "And the Naming Charm confirms it. Your name is Lexen Chelseer."

Of course he would know that spell, obscure as it might be. He was the one who taught it to me! I've been an idiot. "That was the name I grew up with, yes," I say. "When I was taken to the States and hidden away."

"I don't know if there's any way to fool the Naming Charm," Sirius says, frowning. "But I suppose anything is possible..."

"It would not have been much of hiding if they weren't thorough about it," I say.

"I suppose," Sirius says.

"I'm still your godson," I say. "No matter what name I might have ever gone by at any point. And I still got you out of Azkaban."

Sirius nods. "Of course. Sorry, I'm just a little confused at the moment."

I smile at him and squeeze his arm reassuringly. "Don't worry about that. Now, what are you concerned about?"

Sirius takes a deep breath. "Do you know who Tom Riddle really is?"

"I do," I say. "Do you?"

"He did a good job of hiding it," Sirius says. "But the pieces all fit. He's Voldemort! He's the one who murdered your parents!"

"I know," I say.

Sirius stares at me incredulously. "And you're letting him stay in your house?"

"Yes," I say.

He says more quietly, "Did he kidnap you, Harry? Did he coerce you, _force_ you into serving him somehow?"

"No," I reply. I rub my head. "You can safely assume that anything I've done, I have done willingly. I'm too strong-willed for the Imperius Curse, and too damned stubborn to be forced into doing something I don't want to do."

"So you joined him _willingly_?" Sirius says, gaping at me.

"Is that what you want me to say, Sirius?" I say. "I'm a dark wizard. I'm the Dark Lord's apprentice. What more do you want of me?"

"I can't believe this," Sirius says, looking at me closely. "He must have tricked you, or done something to you, or... I don't know!"

"Why is that so hard to believe?" I say.

"Harry, he killed your parents!" Sirius says. "He murdered countless other people!"

"Technically, no, he didn't," I say. "_This_ Tom Riddle was magically preserved at the age of sixteen, before he had actually done any of that."

Sirius blinks at me again. "What?"

"Alright, long story short, Voldemort did some unwise magical experiments and lost his sanity in the process. Tom is him as he was before all that. Back when he was still sane."

"But... he..." Sirius stammers.

"He realized and regreted his mistakes, and will not make them again," I say. "Now, we are working together in an attempt to forge a better future for wizards everywhere."

"But... you said you're a dark wizard," Sirius says. "And he's still the Dark Lord..."

"Much as you might have thought otherwise during your teenage rebellion streak, Sirius, dark is not evil," I say. "Neither is light good. I see no need to be ashamed of who or what I am."

"So you still think you're doing the right thing?" Sirius says.

"Of course," I say. "Well, most people don't intentionally set out to do the _wrong_ thing, but I'll take it that you mean that I'm doing something I think will actually help people, and not just looking to promote myself."

"I would have thought that Voldemort would be looking to rule the world," Sirius says. "And, what, you're his second in command now or something?"

"I am," I say. "And I don't think that's his goal. There's... more going on here than you realize, Sirius."

"So I'm starting to see," Sirius says, sighing. "Look, Harry. I don't know what to make of all this. I'm going to need to think about this."

"Think all you want," I say, shrugging. I just wish he'd actually come and talked to me before going to the Order straight after eavesdropping.

"I just can't wrap my mind around the idea of you as a dark wizard," Sirius says. "You always seem like such a good person, a perfect student, maybe even too perfect. Is it all an act?"

"If it were, I would have driven myself mad by now," I say.

"Alright," Sirius says. "I'll... I'll go and let you get some sleep, then. Good night, Harry."

"Night, Sirius," I say.

As he leaves the room, I have to wonder just how much of it is an act myself. _Am_ I a good person? A question that haunts me far more than it probably should.


	25. New Allies

**Chapter 25: New Allies**

I'm sorely tempted to get drunk, but I can't afford to dull my reflexes right now. Not when I expect to get attacked at any moment.

"You seem tense," Tom says, coming up to me. "Or do you frequently enjoy sitting in a library with an open book in front of you that you aren't even looking at?"

"Just worried," I say. "About the Order."

"Relax," Tom says. "I put up new defenses around the house, with the Fidelius Charm gone. They won't get in here quite so easily now."

I do relax at that. "Ah, thank you." I smile at him. "You know, I'd been really hoping that I could get through all seven years of Hogwarts. Now I just have to wonder if I'll even be able to take my OWLs."

"Don't worry about it," Tom says. "I'll make sure you can manage, one way or another. And failing all else, I will teach you myself."

"I'm glad to hear that," I say. "I don't know how long we're going to be able to keep a lid on these secrets."

"It'll be alright," Tom says.

I chuckle softly. "Say. Peter Pettigrew is still alive somewhere, isn't he?"

"He is," Tom says. "What of him?"

"Would you terribly miss him if something happened to him?" I say, smirking.

"Not particularly, although I'm not eager to throw away a pawn without good reason," Tom says. "What do you have in mind?"

"If we play this right, we might be able to get Sirius on our side," I say. "Maybe even Remus too..."

"I'm listening," Tom says, leaning close.

Arrangements are made, and on Easter, Peter is tied up and unconscious in the main hall. Sirius and Remus come down together, Remus still looking a bit haggard after the full moon a few days ago.

"What- Is that... Peter?" Sirius says, gaping.

"Happy Easter, guys," I say. "I know it's traditional give presents at Christmas and not Easter, but this seemed too good an opportunity to pass up."

Remus frowns, and turns to Tom and says, "Surrendering the traitor won't make me forget who you are, Voldemort."

"My name is Tom Riddle," Tom says. "I'm not the one who murdered your friends."

"We know the truth, Voldemort," Remus says. "But you still deny it?"

"You know a part of what you think is the truth," Tom says. "The actual truth is a bit more complicated than you realize."

"Hear him out, please," I say, looking pleadingly to Remus and Sirius.

"Yes, it's true that Tom Riddle went on to become Voldemort," Tom says. "However, I am not that person. I am Tom Riddle as he was when he was sixteen. I was preserved in that state for fifty years before I was able to return. It's terrible to see what this other me has degenerated to. Nothing but a monster."

"Do you really expect us to believe this?" Remus says.

"It's the truth," I say. "I know, because I found out about the magical diary in another life, and used it to restore him here."

"_You_ were responsible for bringing this creature back?" Sirius says.

"Why didn't you say something?" Remus says. "I thought you were going to destroy that diary."

"Would you have listened if I'd said I was intending on resurrecting the Dark Lord in order to fight himself?" I say.

Sirius blinks for a moment. "Maybe. Ugh, this is giving me a headache."

"I knew it would be a dangerous proposition, and I didn't want you guys involved in it," I say. "I wasn't certain just how things would work out. Although, really, it's not like I've told you guys even the half of what I'm doing... when I even have a plan in advance anyway."

"Cassie certainly wasn't planned," Remus says with a smirk.

"Yeah," I say. "You can't work time travel by knowing everything in advance. You change one small thing, and everything you know about is invalidated. The future isn't fixed. My knowledge of the future is pretty much useless. _Nothing_ is the same. All I have is knowledge, and the rest I've got to play by ear."

"That other me did some horrible things," Tom says. "I'm looking to rectify that, and set things right again. I can't bring back the dead. But I can give some consolation to those still living."

"And what assurance do we have that you're not going to just turn into a monster like Voldemort again?" Remus says. "You clearly already have the potential for that."

"I won't," Tom says. "I know where I went wrong, and I won't go down that path again. Voldemort twisted himself in a number of dark rituals, sacrificing everything for the sake of power and immortality. He was a fool."

"I don't know what to think of this," Remus says.

"Well, _I_ believe him," Sirius says. "Especially if he's going to let us give that traitorous rat what's coming to him."

"You don't think Voldemort would sacrifice one of his minions for the sake of gaining an advantage?" Remus says to him.

"I hardly even know what's what anymore," Sirius says. "But I _do_ know that this bloke is expressing regret over what happened to James and Lily, and he's got that rat Peter tied up. And that my godson seems quite happy to support him."

"The Order of the Phoenix-" Remus begins.

"_I don't care_ what the Order of the Phoenix thinks," Sirius says.

"That's why you didn't tell them about your suspicions?" Remus says. "You left me to have to do it?"

"_You_ told them?" I say.

"Remus!" Sirius snaps. "I told you that I wanted to talk to Harry first before doing anything."

"And then you avoided him for months?" Remus says.

I sigh and put my face in my palm. "What did you tell them, Remus?"

"Just what Sirius told me," Remus says.

"Just... argh, never mind," I say. "Look. What's done is done. While I wish that you'd gone to me first, if you had cause to suspect me for any reason, I can understand why you didn't. I'm not going to blame you for that. Now we just need to deal with the situation on hand."

Remus looks away. "I'm sorry, Harry. Perhaps I should have trusted you more."

"Trust is a rare and precious commodity," I say. "You know why I sent everyone else out of this house? Because I wanted to be sure that I trusted everyone in my house. And just because I didn't always tell you everything outright didn't mean that I didn't trust you. I'd have trusted you with my life, with my freedom!"

Remus winces. "Alright, look. I'll see what kind of damage control I can do. I'll explain things to the Order as you've told me."

"Just please, no more secrets between us, alright?" Sirius says.

"That's why we're here," Tom says. "I was hoping that we could be allies."

"I'm not going to be a Death Eater," Sirius says.

"I don't _want_ Death Eaters," Tom says. "Those of Voldemort's regime who can adapt to the new direction I'm taking them in will remain. Those who cannot will be removed, one way or another." He nods to Peter's unconscious form.

"You'd send your own followers to Azkaban?" Remus says.

"No," I say. "Nobody else is going to Azkaban, if I can help it. Better they just be killed. I wouldn't condemn even my worst enemy to that horrible place."

"You've got a point," Sirius says, grimacing. "Alright, I'll do it. There's no way in hell I'm going to fight against my godson, no matter what side he's chosen."

Remus gives a small, reluctant nod. "I still have my reservations, but, you've convinced me."

Tom smiles at them. "I'm glad that you're willing to see reason, for Harry's sake. What do you wish to do with Peter?"

"_Rennervate_," Sirius casts, pointing his wand at Peter.

"Ugh, where am I?" Peter murmurs, peering about. "Sirius? Remus?"

"Hello, Peter," Remus says, without the least trace of friendliness in his voice.

"So, are you really who you appear to be?" Sirius says. "Tell me, Peter, why did you do it? Why did you betray our friends?"

"You don't understand!" Peter shrieks. "He would have killed me!" He looks over to Tom hopefully. "Master! Please, you wouldn't let them hurt me, would you?"

"I'm not your master, and I have no need for betrayers," Tom says. "Why should I think that you would not betray _me_ in turn if someone were to threaten you?" He snorts softly. "And no, don't even bother trying to escape. Those ropes have been charmed to prevent your Animagus transformation."

"Remus, Harry," Sirius says. "Shall we kill him together?"

I think on that for a moment, and then grin wickedly. Who am I to pass up a chance to kill someone without consequence? No one will care if Peter Pettigrew dies. "Yes. Let's."

"No, please!" Peter begs. "Don't kill me! I'll do anything!"

"_Silencio_," I cast, not even bothering to bring out the Elder Wand for it. "You'll shut up, for starters."

"You're weak," Sirius says. "You're a coward. If I'd been in your position, I would have died rather than betray my friends! As should you!"

I send lightning at Peter from my fingertips. Sirius and Remus don't hesitate to join in with curses of their own. Within moments, Peter Pettigrew is dead.

"Dobby!" I call, and the house-elf pops into view in front of me. "Could you dispose of this trash?" I gesture to Peter's body.

"Of course, Master Harry!" Dobby says cheerfully. "Right away!"

Sirius says quietly to me, "You enjoyed that more than you probably should."

"So did you," I reply.

"I won't argue that," Sirius says, smirking.

Cassie pokes her head in the main hall, and says, "You all done in here?"

"I believe so, yes," Tom says.

"I can take the charms off the kitchen now, then," Cassie says. "I hope you guys like eggs. Hermione and I have decorated a lot of them." A grin spreads across her face. "How about an Easter egg hunt? I've never had one before!"

Tom laughs. "Ah, why not?"

While we're eating, Dobby sets up an Easter egg hunt. Cassie even goes to bring Draco over for it. Sirius seems perfectly willing to switch quickly from angst and vengeance to having fun. As the others head off to look for eggs, I turn to Tom, who I have been left alone with for a moment.

I hiss in Parseltongue, "It would have been much simpler if I had let you burn down my house."

"It would," Tom hisses back. "But perhaps it's better this way."

"It won't be if the Order of the Phoenix starts causing problems for us," I reply.

"We can handle it," Tom says. "Let's go find those eggs."

* * *

The remainder of the year passes uneventfully enough, aside from accidentally killing myself during the Theatre Club's adaptation of Dracula. I read the book this thing was supposed to be based on, and tried to tell them that at no point was Dracula ever on fire, but they insisted on having him go out flaming anyway.

Whatever Remus might have said to the Order of the Phoenix, Moody continues to keep an eye on me. Well, so long as he doesn't do anything, I don't really care. I'm not going to spend my days constantly wondering if this is the moment I'm going to be killed randomly. Paranoia has to have limits.

"You are _way_ too excited about OWLs," Draco says.

"Why shouldn't I be?" I say.

"You are such a Ravenclaw sometimes," Draco says.

"I _am_ a Ravenclaw," I point out. "So are you, remember?"

Draco snorts softly. "So how do you think you're going to do?"

"Well enough, I suppose," I say. "I'm not so sure about Potions and Herbology. Scraping by in History of Magic and Muggle Studies."

"I have to admit, it's nice to see you struggling at Charms instead of just waltzing in and trying to cast them all wandlessly," Draco says.

"Yeah, yeah," I say. "So I have to work at it. Charms are important, but they just don't come naturally to me, for the most part."

"Of course," Draco says. "You're a dark wizard, same as me."

"You do better in Charms than I do," I say.

"I do not," Draco says.

"You know how much I've practiced in advance to manage it?" I say.

"So have I," Draco says.

"And any advantage I might have is only because of the wand I'm using," I say.

"You've been studying as much as the Heir of Atlantis," Draco says.

"When Cassie doesn't drag me off for a break, anyway," I say.

"Snogging," Draco says. "When she doesn't drag you off for _snogging_."

"That too," I say.

Before OWLs begin, Flitwick calls me into his office, as he's doing with all the other fifth year Ravenclaws.

"We're here to discuss what sort of career you plan to go into after leaving Hogwarts, Mr. Potter," Flitwick says. "Have you given this any thought?"

"Frankly, I'd just like to _survive_ completing NEWTs," I say dryly.

"Yes, I would assume that 'not dying' would be a given," Flitwick says. "But the field you go into will determine what classes you will need to take during your sixth and seventh years, and what grades will be required to move on."

"Alright, alright," I say. "Assuming that I actually make it through the next two years, I'm looking to go into magical research, possibly get involved in politics." I smirk, and say wryly, "Maybe become the next Dark Lord and take over the world." I giggle.

"You shouldn't joke about that," Flitwick says.

"I know," I say. "After all, if I weren't thinking of doing that, people might get suspicious of me, and if I _were_, declaring my intentions would be foolhardy."

"You really don't strike me as Dark Lord material, Mr. Potter," Flitwick says. "Anyway. The fields you mention don't have any particular requirements for entry, but I would recommend continuing with Politics, as well as Charms, Transfiguration, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes, or whichever ones you wished to research in particular, if you intended a more narrow field of study."

"I'm not going to neglect Battle Magic and Potions, either," I say.

"If you do wind up going into politics, it would be nice to have another Ravenclaw in the Ministry," Flitwick comments. "Many Slytherins wind up going into politics, but I haven't seen too many of my own house with any serious aspirations toward it."

When OWLs arrive, I put everything else out of my mind but doing as well as I can after some last minute cramming sessions in the library with Cassie, Draco, and Hermione.

The results come in. I did better than I'd expected, considering how nervous I've been about it and how much work I've been putting into it. I got O's in Battle Magic and Politics, E's in Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes, and A's in History of Magic, Muggle Studies, and Herbology.

"You passed everything!" Draco says upon seeing my scores. "That's great!"

"I didn't do as well as I'd hoped," I say. "I'm going to have to work at that."

Cassie snorts softly. "There's no shame in the scores you got."

"That's easy for you to say," I say, poking at her own score sheet. "I'm seeing a lot of circles on that parchment."

"You still beat me in Politics!" Cassie says.

"And Politics is the only thing I'll be beating Hermione at, too, if only because she didn't take it," I say wryly.

* * *

The start of another summer at Caer Danas. Home. When did I start thinking of this place as home, and not Wishingsdale? But then, Wishingsdale stopped being a home to me long ago. A home lost, taken from me by a sudden attack I could do nothing about. And I'll have to move on from this one eventually, too. But for now... it's home.

The day after the Hogwarts Express takes the students away from school for the summer, Grindelwald arrives on my front doorstep.

"Do go see to Grindelwald, before the wards incinerate him," Tom says to me casually, not even bothering to look up from his copy of _The Quibbler_.

I head outside to greet him. The wards appear to have immobilized him in between two beds of flowers. "One moment," I say. "I'll get you keyed in so that the wards aren't overreacting to your presence." He starts to move again. "There you go."

"Nice defenses," Grindelwald says dryly. "You didn't warn me about them when you told me to come here."

"They weren't up yet then," I say. "Come on inside."

Sirius and Remus are probably still asleep, and Cassie and Hermione are in the library studying last I checked, so hopefully nobody will notice Grindelwald is here inadvertently. I don't think I care to explain this one to Sirius and Remus.

"I didn't realize you lived with Headmaster Riddle," Grindelwald says.

"He doesn't," Tom replies absently, still reading _The Quibbler_. Upside down, even. "I live with him."

"So, are you actually Voldemort, or a new Dark Lord?" Grindelwald wonders.

"It's complicated," Tom says.

Grindelwald snorts. "What isn't?"

"Where did you get the idea that I'm Voldemort?" Tom asks, finally looking up at him.

"Moody said some things to that effect while he thought I wasn't listening," Grindelwald says.

"He doesn't understand the half of what he says," Tom says. "Suffice it to say that I am not Voldemort. Hopefully, that one can be put to rest this summer."

"Are you Harry Potter's master?" Grindelwald says.

"I am," Tom says. "He is quite the promising apprentice."

"You didn't mention that, either," Grindelwald says aside to me. "So, who will I be swearing my loyalty to?"

"An oath to Harry is an oath to me," Tom says. "I will leave you to him. I am confident in his ability."

"I don't know that I should be insulted to be left to a mere apprentice, but I really don't care anymore at the moment," Grindelwald says.

"Come this way," I say, leading him off toward a small room that has been converted into a ritual chamber.

"So, what will you ask of me?" Grindelwald says.

"Like I told you before," I say. "Your absolute loyalty. No less, no more. And if you try anything or set one toe out of line, you will never, ever get this chance again. Even if you think you've won, I will go back in time and kill you instead."

"Time-Turners don't work that way," Grindelwald says.

"I'm a Time Mage," I say. "I don't need Time-Turners. It's an inherent ability to me. You may wonder why I'm being so harsh to you, when you don't remember doing anything to me to warrant it? You've actually tried to kill me before. I won't tolerate it anymore, however."

"I... what?" Grindelwald says.

"You've tried to get the Elder Wand back from me," I say.

"And I suppose you wouldn't just let me walk away after all this, either," Grindelwald says. "I know too much, right? And Memory Charms can be broken."

"Walk away to _what_?" I say. "You have nothing to go back to. I don't care what you do, so long as you don't seek to betray me or oppose me. But what is there really for you there? You still have choices. But your alternatives don't appear very good to me."

"I know," Grindelwald says with a sigh. "That would be why I came. I realized that I have nothing left to lose. So I'll take the risk, risk everything, for any chance I can grab at."

I give a nod. "Then I will have your oath, before we do anything else. Swear your loyalty to the Stormseeker."

"Stormseeker?" Grindelwald says, raising an eyebrow. "What kind of a title is that?"

"One that was given to me by people with a love of pretentious titles," I reply.

"Fine," Grindelwald says. He kneels before me, and says, "I, Gellert Grindelwald, do hereby swear an oath of loyalty upon my life and my magic to you, Stormseeker. I swear to serve, protect, and obey you in any way that is within my power."

"I, the Stormseeker, do hereby accept your oath, Gellert Grindelwald." A light erupts from the tip of my wand for a moment, and Grindelwald is surrounded by a faint glow.

Grindelwald stands, and mutters, "I really can't believe I just did that. Swearing loyalty to a kid..."

"I'm a time traveler," I say. "I'm not _actually_ sixteen years old. Technically, I'm almost twenty-eight."

"Still a kid," Grindelwald says.

"You've been in prison for fifty years," I say.

"I was already sixty-three at that point!" Grindelwald says.

"You're over a hundred?" I say. "Well. No need to worry about that any longer." I pull out a potion from my bag of holding, one of those Snape's been working on. It should be a better mix than the earlier ones, but even those were sufficient to keep me above the threshold for magical exhaustion.

"What's that?" Grindelwald asks.

"Energy potion," I say. "If I can't manage to drink it afterward, pour it down my throat, alright?" Grindelwald gives a nod. "You ready for this?"

"Go ahead," Grindelwald says.

I take his hand and indicate that he should sit, and take a seat on the floor next to him. I focus upon my Time Magic. I've only done this once before, and didn't really know what I was doing that time, but I remember what I did. I think of the innocence of youth, of the calm before the storm, life before everything changed. I force my magic into him, energy flooding out of me like a tap.

It takes everything out of me. As I dizzily see a young face before me through hazy eyes, I try to bring the potion to my lips. I can't quite make it, but a firm hand reaches up and steadies mine, getting the fizzing liquid into me. I drink it down, and some of the overpowering weariness leaves me.

"Merlin, that takes a lot out of me," I mutter, rubbing my head and putting the potion aside.

"You alright, kid?" says a voice much too young to be calling me a kid.

I snicker in amusement. "Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine. It's just magical exhaustion. I've dealt with worse. A Muggle brat with a peashooter could kick my ass at the moment."

"You're damned lucky I swore that oath to you."

"Luck had nothing to do with it," I say. "Why do you think I made you swear it before doing anything?"

"You're smarter than I'd given you credit for," says the boy. He holds up his hands and looks at them. "You did it, you really did... I might not have chosen to be quite this young again, but I'm hardly one to complain."

"Better this way," I say. "You can go through school again, and establish a new identity that way. You'll need a new name, too. I don't think you can get away with pretending to be a close relative, like Cassie did."

"Miss Black? What about her?"

"As silly as this might sound, Cassiopeia Black is actually Cassiopeia Black," I say wryly. "I aged her down as well, before we started school. She was Sirius Black's great-aunt, and is now pretending to be his daughter."

The boy's eyes open wide. "She does a good act. I wouldn't have suspected her of being anything but an intelligent girl."

"She's better at it than I am," I say, smirking. "That's why I took up Theatre Club. Anyway, do you have a name in mind?"

"I thought about it a bit after I talked to you. How about Gerard Boltwood?"

I give a nod. "A little obvious, but it should pass. Family?"

"It would be easiest to claim to be a Muggleborn orphan," Gerard says.

"You'd be willing to claim to be Muggleborn?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

Gerard shrugs. "I don't see why not."

"Not to discourage that thought or anything, but do you even know enough about the modern Muggle world to pass for one?" I ask.

"Enough," Gerard says. "Oh, believe me, ever since I got released, I've been doing research. What Muggles have been doing these days frankly scares _me_. If only Albus hadn't betrayed me, this all could have been prevented."

"We've been doing what we can to prepare for the inevitable," I say. "But it'll be good to have you on our side. And Grindelwald can be reported to have died of old age."

"Maybe this time I won't get expelled in sixth year..." Gerard says.

I chuckle softly. "I'm just hoping to survive my sixth year, personally. Why don't we go get some lunch and introduce you to the other residents of the house?"

Gerard follows me out to the dining area, where the others have already gathered over soup and sandwiches.

"Hey, everyone," I say. "I'd like to introduce you to our latest house guest, Gerard Boltwood. He's a Muggleborn orphan and will be starting at Hogwarts this year."

"Hi," Gerard says, putting on a shy act.

"Hello, Grindelwald," Sirius says absently.

I stare at him for a moment. "Can we make that the last time that name gets spoken around here?"

"How did you figure it out?" Gerard asks.

"Naming Charm," Sirius says.

"That's Professor Grindelwald?" Hermione asks.

"I'm not your teacher anymore," Gerard says. "Grindelwald is officially dead. I'm Gerard Boltwood now."

"Harry, are you sure about what you're doing here?" Remus asks.

"I can assure you that he will be loyal to me," I say. "I made him swear an oath to me before I aged him down."

"Ooh, look at the cute ickle firstie!" Cassie practically coos. "And you're a Muggleborn? I can't wait to show you around Diagon Alley. You're going to love Hogwarts!"

I chuckle softly. "Ah, Cassie, always leaping into the act feet first." I pause thoughtfully for a moment. "Oh, word of advice. Ollivander _will_ be able to figure out that you're not just an ordinary first year. But he also probably won't care, either."

"You know, I never thought I'd be casually eating lunch with _one_ Dark Lord, never mind multiples," Sirius comments.


	26. Triumph of Light

**Chapter 26: Triumph of Light**

"We're going to kill Voldemort today," Tom says to me quietly.

I give a nod. We head up to the library to make our plans.

Cassie follows along after us and comes inside. "You're not leaving me out of this."

"Ah, good," Tom says, putting up a privacy spell and locking the door. "I was hoping you'd come along. You're going to need to murder someone in order to make the ritual at Halloween go more easily."

"Who am I going to kill?" Cassie asks.

"I was thinking that we can leave the bodies of the Lestrange brothers intact, and burn everything else into unrecognizability," Tom says. "They can still make themselves useful by getting the Aurors off of my back and breaking any remaining ties to Voldemort."

"I'll take Rodolphus," Cassie says, grinning far more wickedly than I'm used to seeing.

Tom nods. "I've already made certain to move anything important from the Lestrange estate to Caer Danas."

"Why are you so eager to have your loyal minions killed?" I wonder.

"They haven't been so loyal since my resurrection," Tom says. "You saw yourself how much they were trying to defy me. They disobeyed my orders and were out causing trouble until I effectively imprisoned them in their own home. They're a liability I can't afford."

"And now you want me to kill for you," Cassie says.

"No," Tom says. "I want you to kill for Lexen."

"I'm not arguing the semantics," Cassie says. "I really don't care. It's not like I've never done it before, or anything."

I've gotten used to her acting, but the way she says that makes me raise an eyebrow. "Cassie? You know there's no reason to act for _us_. I don't care if you've ever done it before or not."

"Fine, but it's not like I'm going to back down just because it's my first time," Cassie says. "I don't care how painful it might be, and I'm not going to be disturbed by enjoying it, either. I'll do it, and I'll like it. I want to do it, and I want to do it with Lexen, alright?"

"Are we still talking about murder?" I say.

"Should I leave you two alone for a bit?" Tom says, looking amused.

Cassie blushes fiercely. "Come on. Enough talk. Let's do it already."

"Do what?" I say.

"Kill the Lestranges!" Cassie snaps. "What did you think I meant?"

"You were blushing," Tom says, grinning wryly.

"I was not," Cassie says.

"You totally were," I say.

"Never mind!" Cassie says. "Let's go."

We head out, and Apparate over to the Lestrange estate. I find myself a little nervous despite myself, as well as excited. Am I excited about the prospect of killing and destruction, or about the freedom of ending the suspicions against me and Tom?

"Draco's going to complain that he didn't get to come along," Cassie says.

"Probably for the best," I say.

"Set off some spells at the building," Tom says. "Get the Lestranges running out to see what's going on."

"Tom, did you tell Mipsy to leave?" I ask.

"Oh, the house-elf?" Tom says. "Does it matter?"

"She's an innocent bystander," I say. "I won't have her killed for no reason."

"Oh, very well," Tom says. "Mipsy!" The female house-elf pops into view in front of him. "Go to Caer Danas and remain there for the time being. Assist Dobby with the chores." Mipsy gives a nod and vanishes.

"Thank you," I say.

"_Incendio_," Tom casts, and a fire starts up on the shrubs outside the house.

Cassie and I let off a few spells, bombarding the house and causing a fair bit of property damage. It takes longer than I would have expected for Rabastan and Rodolphus to emerge from the big double doors at the entrance to the house.

"What's going on here?" Rodolphus demands.

"Your service has come to an end," Tom says. "Consider yourselves fired."

"What!" Rodolphus says in outrage.

"It's payback time, my brother," Rabastan says, narrowing his eyes toward me.

"_Fulgoris!_" I cast, and a massive crack of electricity throws Rabastan off of his feet and into the wall. My grin of delight fades a little as I realize I'm not sure whether he survived that or not. It would be simply disappointing for him to have died so quickly.

Cassie flings nonverbal curses toward Rodolphus, but she takes a nasty curse on the leg in the process and stumbles.

"Cassie!" I say, stepping up to protect her.

"I'm fine," Cassie says. "Rabastan's getting up."

I think of the winter snows of my homeland, and cast in a cold fury, "_Nevischio!_"

Needle-like sleet falls from the sky on top of the two brothers, and they slip and fall in surprise. Cassie takes advantage of this distraction to strike Rodolphus with a curse that very nearly takes off his head and slices through part of his chest as well.

Rabastan recovers quickly and flicks his wand at me. A curse throws me backwards, my chest burning. As I scramble to my feet, another curse strikes me in the face. Pain and anger boil through me, and I point the Elder Wand at him for another Lightning Curse.

This time, the Lestrange brothers don't get up again. Panting softly, I put my hands on my knees and balance myself, watching them for a few more moments to make sure they're really down.

"Lexen, are you alright?" Cassie says, approaching me. She glances accusingly to Tom, and says, "Why didn't you help us?"

"I did," Tom says. "I took down the defenses. Although watching the two of you was quite enjoyable. You do, however, need to put more trust in one another's ability. Being concerned about the other's well-being could be a fatal distraction in a fight."

"Get the job done, and then worry about the fact that I feel like half my face has been ripped off?" I say.

"It's not quite that bad," Cassie says, "But I'm afraid it's probably going to scar."

"Let's finish up here, and then call Severus to Caer Danas to take a look at it," Tom says. "Give me a moment."

With a demonic incantation from no earthly language, Tom casts Fiendfyre at the house. The blazing shapes of monsters consume the building, leaving only ashes and rubble in their wake. Cassie and I don't dare interrupt him, for fear that his concentration might slip, even for a moment, and the Fiendfyre rage out of his control.

Tom dismisses the spell, and nods. "Alright. Let's go."

We Apparate back to Caer Danas. Cassie helps me toward my bedroom, but I can see she's limping herself. It was foolish to get wounded in a battle that was only for show to begin with, but perhaps our injuries will help to convince the Order of the Phoenix that things really went down the way we'll claim they did.

Cassie pulls off my robes, and dabs at my face and chest a bit with a damp cloth. "Don't worry," Cassie murmurs. "Some people find curse scars attractive."

"Do you?" I say, grinning at her wryly.

"Don't screw up your face like that," Cassie says. "I'm trying to clean it up a bit."

"Stand aside, Miss Black," Snape says from the doorway. "I will handle it from here."

"Cassie's hurt, too," I say. "Could you take a look at her leg while you're here?"

"I'm _fine_," Cassie insists. "You're far more badly hurt than me."

Snape examines me closely, and hands me a potion. "Drink this."

I take the potion from him and drink it down. Slimy, and tastes like blue. Somehow. I'm not sure how something tastes like blue, but it does somehow. Snape waves his wand over me, and then gives Cassie a small jar.

"Rub this on his chest," Snape says.

Cassie takes the jar and proceeds to dab the burns on my chest with tingly salve. I'm not sure whether I should be disappointed that Snape doesn't seem to want to rub my chest.

"I would suggest trying to duck next time, but I get the feeling that I only end up getting called in when your stupid, careless mistakes _aren't_ fatal," Snape says dryly.

"It was totally not my fault," I say. "Bah, never mind, I'm not even going to argue about it."

He takes a brief look over Cassie as well, and gives her a potion to drink also.

"So, what am I to tell the Order of the Phoenix about this?" Snape says. "Or were you intending on hiding the inevitable scarring?"

"Today was a great victory," I say. "This was the day on which Harry Potter finally defeated the Dark Lord Voldemort, with the assistance of Tom Riddle and Cassiopeia Black."

"I would imagine that they will wonder why only three people went to the fight," Snape says.

"A small, competent strike team," I say. "Of course, I wouldn't have wanted to risk anyone else if I could help it. I don't enjoy leading my friends to their deaths. But they would not allow me to go alone, and perhaps it was for the best, since I might not have succeeded but for their assistance."

Snape gives a short nod. "I am certain that they might complain about you going with such a small team and getting injured, but it is consistant with your previous behavior. Is there a battle location that they will be able to look through for confirmation?"

"Lestrange estate," I say. "Send them there to look around. They'll find the bodies of Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange, as well."

"But not the Dark Lord, I presume," Snape says.

"No," I say. "Tell them his body was destroyed. Tell them that, when he realized that he could not win, he concluded the battle by casting Fiendfyre. He then proved unable to control it, and destroyed himself with it."

"Very well," Snape says. "I will return to the Order headquarters now and make my report. You need to rest now." He looks to Cassie, and says, "Make certain that he gets his rest. And try to stay off that leg as much as possible yourself."

"I'll stun him if I have to," Cassie says, smirking.

"Thank you, sir," I say, nodding to Snape. He heads out and leaves me alone with Cassie.

"So, Cassie, how was your first time?" I say, grinning at her.

"More painful than I would have expected," Cassie replies.

"But it was still fun, wasn't it?" I say.

"Oh, yes," Cassie says. "I'm sure I wouldn't mind doing it again sometime."

"Are you two talking about killing, or did I miss something?" Tom says from the doorway.

I snicker softly.

"Snape said to rest," Cassie says. "Wouldn't want to disobey the healer's orders, would we?"

"Snape isn't exactly a healer," I say.

"He healed us," Cassie says.

"He shoved potions down our throats," I say.

"Resting would be a good idea," Tom says. "Rather than engaging in... other activities."

"Alright, alright," I say. "You think we played our roles well enough?"

"I believe so," Tom says. "It's been high time for the curtain to fall on Lord Voldemort. Hopefully, there won't be any further leaks or similar issues. But if there are, we will be prepared."

"Will Moody be hanging around next year?" Cassie asks.

"I do hope not," Tom says. "I don't think he could even find anything wrong with what was being taught. I've made quite certain that everything is on the up and up."

"I really don't want to have to deal with him another year," I say. "Who're you going to get to do History of Magic?"

"Anyone but Sirius Black," Tom says wryly.

"Well, best leave you here to rest a bit," Cassie says, going to get up.

"Hey, he said you should stay off your leg, too," I say. "So you shouldn't go walking around yourself."

"Do I need to stun the both of you?" Tom says.

"Nah," I say.

Tom levitates Cassie over to her own room, much to my disappointment, and leaves me there to rest on my own. I get Dobby to bring me some food and a book to keep me from being bored.

Sirius and Remus check in after lunch to make sure I'm alright. "You went there with just Cassie and Riddle?" Remus says. "At least you didn't run off by yourself."

"Take a Dark Lord to take down a Dark Lord, I guess," Sirius says. "That's still just really weird."

"I'm just glad that Voldemort is finally gone," Remus says.

"He really is gone this time, isn't he?" Sirius says.

"I certainly hope so," I reply. "We made sure to destroy the means he used to survive before."

"How was that?" Remus asks.

"A Horcrux," I say. "Anchored his soul to the world so he couldn't die. But without it, he was mortal again, and could die like anyone else."

"Good riddance," Sirius says. "I just wish I'd been there to see it, to _help_. Why didn't you take us along?"

"I didn't want you to get hurt," I say. "I'd hate to lose you guys."

"And instead you come back to us looking like this," Remus says. "You could have been killed yourself, you know."

"I'm immortal, remember?" I say.

"And yet you were willing to risk Cassie!" Sirius says.

"She wouldn't let me leave without her," I say. "You'd probably have done the same if you'd actually been awake when we left."

"You're damned right we would," Sirius says.

"And if any of you died, I'd just wind up killing myself to try again without losing anyone," I say.

"Wait," Remus says. "_Did_ you?"

I smirk. "You don't need to know that." I smile at them. "But I'll take some scars over losing anyone I care about anyday."

That makes them ease off. "Alright, Harry," Sirius says. "I'll trust that you did things the way you thought was best."

Then, after dinner, Gerard comes in to see me. "Laid up in bed and covered with scars? I warned you about going after him as you are. Why didn't you wait? I would have told you about the rituals you'd need to perform to become a Dark Lord. Of course, you'd be best off waiting until Halloween to do it."

"I didn't even take him down myself," I say. "This was from fighting Rabastan Lestrange."

"Still, that was foolish and impatient," Gerard says.

"And what would you say if I told you that I knew he was going to make a move today?" I say. "That we needed to make a pre-emptive strike in order to prevent him from doing so?"

Gerard frowns. "Time Magic must be nice to have. If I had the chance to know about anytime there might be trouble, even only hours in advance..."

"Oh, yes," I say. "There's disadvantages, too, but I wouldn't trade it for anything."

"So, are you still interested in knowing what I know?" Gerard asks.

"I already have plans for Halloween, unfortunately," I say.

"How about the Winter Solstice?" Gerard asks.

I nod. "That should be free up."

"What are you planning for Halloween?" Gerard wonders.

"Secret," I say, grinning at him. He doesn't need to know about the Soul Bonds yet, if at all.

"I see," Gerard says. "The ritual is pretty complicated, and you'll probably want to perform it at a node as well. Someplace where magic is strongest. Like Hogwarts. And, of course, there is a price that must be paid."

"What price?" I ask.

"Magic gives nothing for free," Gerard says. "I can't tell you what the price will be, however. It's different for every person. You are, however, free to reject it, but if you do so, you will never get another chance at it."

I give a nod. "And what are the benefits?"

"You can use dark magic more easily, and it's more powerful," Gerard says. "You can also sense it, feel like. You're more attuned to magic in general. You're especially able to use soul magic and demonic magic more readily. Some spells might affect you differently. You have some resistance to life-draining magic, but some light-based spells may be more harmful toward you."

I frown faintly. "Is this ritual demonic in nature?"

"Yes," Gerard says. "Do you have a problem with demonic magic?"

"I don't think I want to do this," I say.

"Afraid of what price it might ask of you?" Gerard says.

"No," I say. "Just something about this is raising alarm bells in my head. I've heard about something like this before. I want to cross-reference some things before even considering this."

"Suit yourself," Gerard says, shrugging.

I wish Keolah were here. I'm no Seeker myself. She could look at him and Tom and tell me right off if my suspicions are true. If these people have actually turned themselves into demons. The appearance means nothing. It's the state of the soul that matters. But I already have a piece of Tom's soul inside of me. If it's true, then I've already been infected, and it doesn't matter anyway.

I'm needlessly worrying, I think. It might be something else entirely. I don't know. What I do know is that I'm very, very wary about performing any soul-altering rituals.

* * *

The next morning, the _Daily Prophet_'s front page is taken up with a story about the supposed great battle, along with a picture of the destroyed Lestrange estate.

Tom comes in to check on how I'm recovering. "The burns on your chest are starting to heal up nicely. The face might not be as bad as I'd feared, as well."

"Tom," I say. "What do you know about the ritual to become a Dark Lord?"

"I wouldn't do it," Tom says. "It's one of many reasons why Voldemort was insane. Although the Horcruxes were probably a bigger factor. And the ritual that turned him into a serpentine creature didn't help, either."

"I'm asking because it reminds me of something I heard about from my homeworld," I say. "Does it actually turn your soul demonic?"

"That's one way of putting it," Tom says.

"Did you turn me into a demon!" I exclaim.

"Relax," Tom says. "I've done nothing of the sort. That sort of thing doesn't transfer in a Soul Bond unless done so explicitly, which I did not do."

I sigh. "I still don't like it."

"Is there some particular reason for this paranoia?" Tom asks.

"My family warned me about demons," I say. "My grandmother had some especially nasty cautionary tales about them."

"Do you know much about demons?" Tom asks.

"Not really," I say.

"Does it bother you to think that I might have a 'demonic' soul?" Tom says.

I sigh. "It probably shouldn't, but it does. But you obviously don't think it's such a great thing yourself, if you're warning me against it. Tom, what price did you have to pay for it?"

Tom looks away and stares out the window. "You probably won't like this, either."

"Tell me anyway," I press.

"I paid the price of love," Tom says. "I am incapable of actually experiencing this feeling. Lust, certainly, fondness, vague affection, but not actual _love_."

I blink at him. "Seriously? Why?"

"I never experienced it before then," Tom says. "I felt it to be a weakness. So I tossed it away, and thought myself stronger for it."

I shudder a little. "Is there any way to undo it?"

Tom looks at me. "Would you ask that of me?"

"I would," I say. "You're damned right I would. That's horrible. I can say right out that... that... _I love you_, and I would not trade that for _anything_."

Tom lets out a heavy sigh. "You know I can only take your word on that. But... I'll believe you. I've probably become a fool, but I believe you."

I smile at him, and relax a little. "I'm glad for that. I would hate for you to miss out on the sort of happiness you've brought me."

"Why am I even considering sacrificing power for happiness?" Tom wonders.

"Because there are more ways to gain power that don't ask that of you," I say. "And I will be happy to share them with you."

"There is an appeal to that..." Tom says. "Alright, come on, let's go."

"Where are we going?" I wonder as Tom drags me out of bed.

"Today is the Summer Solstice," Tom says. "This will be the last chance to do it this year. So we've got to go and get things set up before noon. And I'll need your help with it."

I quickly get dressed, ignoring the pain from my healing wounds, and we head over to Hogwarts. While the dark rituals we performed here were done in the dungeons, now Tom is getting things set up by the lake, in broad daylight. No candles or runes carved into the ground, but seven bowls of water.

"What do you need me to do?" I ask.

"You're the anchor," Tom says. "You're here to remind me of why I'm doing this."

Sunlight shimmers on the surface of the water in the bowls as the noonday sun shines down from high above. Tom murmurs some arcane words, and touches his wand to each bowl in turn.

"Darkness, I reject your gifts," Tom says. "I reclaim that which was taken from me."

Searing, blinding light erupts from the ground in the circle between the bowls. Tom collapses, screaming in agony.

I rush up to him and grab his hand. "Tom!"

He can't answer, in the midst of screaming. The light floods through me as well, burning a little, but not nearly as badly as him.

"Don't hurt him," I murmur. "Hurt me instead, if you must hurt someone. I will take this pain for him."

My vision is filled with strange images. Light and darkness, clashing. And then I see the faint image of seven angels floating above us.

_The Abyss does not give up its own easily_, whispers a voice in my mind. _Stay with him. He will need you to pull him out of this._

"I'm here, Tom," I say softly. "I'm here for you. I won't leave you. I love you. Stay with me. Come back to me. I won't let them hurt you. I won't ever let them hurt you again."

Tom stops screaming after a moment, his eyes snapping open and staring at the sky. Gray eyes, human eyes, not demonic red any longer. "Thank you..." he whispers.

The angels float away, and the light fades. "Tom, are you alright?" I ask.

"I think I've never been better," Tom says, and then pulls me into a passionate kiss.

As we break off, there's the sound of a throat clearing. I look over in surprise to see Hagrid standing nearby with his hideous pink umbrella. He must have noticed the light show.

"Headmaster? What're you doing?" Hagrid asks.

"Oh, hi, Hagrid," I say brightly.

Tom laughs softly. "We've just finished performing a Ritual of Purification."

"You were kissing a student," Hagrid says.

"Er, yeah, never mind that," Tom says.

"At least he's one of the older students..." Hagrid says.

"Why do you have that umbrella?" I say. "There's not a cloud in the sky."

"Oh, er, I'm rather attached to it," Hagrid says.

"_Accio_ umbrella," I say. The umbrella flies toward me and lands on the ground beside me. "I really need to practice that spell..." I pick it up and examine it. "What is this?"

"Looks like he keeps the broken pieces of his old wand in there," Tom says, pulling them out.

"Huh," I say.

"I'm not supposed to use it," Hagrid says. "You won't tell anyone, will you? I won't tell anyone what you were doing, either."

On a whim, I tap the Elder Wand to the broken pieces, and say, "_Reparo_." The long, oaken wand snaps together again, looking whole and good as new. I hand it over to him. "There you go, try it out."

"What? How?" Hagrid says, taking it from me with wide eyes. "_Aguamenti!_" A small fountain of water flows out from the tip of the wand.

"You just _repaired a wand_?" Tom says, looking at me incredulously.

"Must be all the light magic around today," I say. I decide to take advantage of this, and pull out my own pine wand. "_Reparo_." It fixes itself as well, and I put it back in my bag for safe keeping.

"But, I'm still not supposed to use magic," Hagrid says.

"Eh, don't worry about it," Tom says. "You only got in trouble because of me. I'll get it cleared up for you. It's the least I can do."

"You would do that for me?" Hagrid says.

"Sure, why not?" Tom says, laughing lightly. "I'm in a generous mood today."

I beam happily, and hug Tom tightly, planting another kiss on him.

"Definitely not telling anyone about this..." Hagrid mutters, turning to head back toward his tent, shaking his head.

"Lexen," Tom murmurs, looking at me. "I think I can safely say now... I love you."

I feel like a Patronus could burst from me. "Was it worth it?"

"You were right," Tom says. "A thousand times over."

After a little while longer, we return home to Caer Danas. I can hardly believe that just happened.

"You two are buzzing with light magic," Gerard says. "What _did_ you use the Summer Solstice for?"

I laugh softly, and reply only, "Secret."

"Fine, fine, keep your secrets," Gerard says. "You're all giddy on a light magic high... That stuff's just as addictive as dark magic, you know. And even more insidious."

There's a pile of letters waiting for me by the end of the day, all regarding the events of yesterday. Thanks and congratulations from various people I don't recognize, Rita Skeeter asking for an interview, and one from the Malfoys wondering what _really_ happened. They aren't fooled for a moment.

"It's funny," Tom says, glancing over the stack. "In a way, Voldemort really _is_ dead now. We really did defeat the Dark Lord."

The next day, the Draco comes over. Once he's secure in the library with Tom, Cassie, and me, he asks, "Okay, so what _really_ happened two days ago?"

"We killed the Lestranges and burned down their house," Cassie says. "Tom obviously isn't dead."

"But Voldemort is," Tom says lightly, chuckling. "And I'm not even a Dark Lord anymore."

"How is that?" Draco wonders.

"We performed a Ritual of Purification yesterday," Tom says.

"What?" Draco says. "Why?"

"Because, in order to be a Dark Lord, I had to sacrifice my capacity for love," Tom says. "I was not willing to hold to that any longer."

Draco blinks at him. "Seriously?"

"Indeed," I say.

"You redeemed the Dark Lord by the power of love?" Draco says. "Ugh, I thought that sort of thing only happened in the bad romance novels my mother reads."

Tom laughs aloud. "It really does sound kind of like that, doesn't it?"

"I won't complain," Cassie says. "Maybe he'll be a little less of an arse now."

"I probably deserved that," Tom says, smirking.

"I think I should just give up on the world ever making sense," Draco says, shaking his head.


	27. Spilling Secrets

**Chapter 27: Spilling Secrets**

"Report, Severus," Tom says.

"The Order of the Phoenix is celebrating the end of the Dark Lord," Snape says. "The only one who doesn't seem to believe it completely is Moody, and he has always been overly suspicious of everything. No one else is listening to him right now. I believe they are going to disband once again."

"That's excellent news," I say. "Moody might still be a problem, but at least the bulk of the issue will be off of our heads."

"Indeed," Snape says.

"We should keep our eyes open, regardless," Tom says. "It wouldn't do to underestimate Moody, and we need to make sure that there aren't any _other_ problems as well."

Shortly, our letters for the next year at Hogwarts arrive. I intend to go to Diagon Alley for books and supplies with Cassie and Gerard, but Tom stops us.

"I'm going with you," Tom says.

"I'm sure we'll be fine," Cassie says.

Tom shakes his head. "I'm not going to take any chances."

Cassie's not bonded to me yet. I don't know if Moody would stoop to targeting her to get at me, but I can't blame Tom for being paranoid. I'm certainly paranoid enough myself. I've been having nightmares about losing her on and off for months, as well as fears of the bond with Tom not working properly and something going horribly wrong. I refuse to start dipping into Dream Sweets again, but I'm sorely tempted sometimes.

The four of us Apparate over to Diagon Alley. We pick up our books and supplies, and are intending on heading for Ollivander's next when Gerard stops to look down Knockturn Alley.

"Come on, let's take a look," Gerard says.

"Gerard, that might not be a good idea," I say.

"Bah," Gerard says, heading in anyway before I can stop him.

I glance aside at Tom and Cassie, sigh, and follow after him. I can't really blame him, I suppose. I know I made a beeline for Knockturn Alley the first time I came here, and accidentally got killed for it, but then I was an _actual_ ten year old, and not a Dark Lord who is over a century old and simply in the body of a first year student.

"We really ought to go and get your wand, Gerard," I say.

"In a minute," Gerard says. "I want to take a look at their books."

"Alright, alright," I say as we toward a seedy-looking bookshop, in fact the very one I ran into Tom what seems like ages ago, where he was looking for _Secrets of the Darkest Art_. "I'll keep watch from outside."

Cassie nods, and heads inside with Tom and Gerard. I pull out the Elder Wand and stand ready in near the door, trying to look casual. I'm nothing if not paranoid, especially here. I'm not about to let down my guard for anything.

While I'm watching the door, an elderly witch approaches the shop. She pauses to look at me for a moment, and I mutter, "_Nomino_."

Nymphadora Tonks.

That can't be a good sign. Is she still working with Moody, and trying to spy us out?

"Pardon me, young man," Tonks says. "But do you know which way I need to go to get back to Diagon Alley?"

I glance around warily, but before I can react, I hear a spell go off. A flash of red light slams into me. I'm out in the blink of an eye.

* * *

"_Rennervate_," says Cassie, bringing me back to consciousness.

I get up quickly and assess the situation. Tom is on the ground. Our assailants are nowhere in sight. Tom doesn't look good. My limbs grow weak as I see how badly hurt he is. He was practically torn apart by curses. He's not breathing. No heartbeat. Fuck.

"Tom!" I ask. "Cassie, Gerard, What happened?"

"We heard a spell go off outside, and Tom ran out to help," Cassie says, trying to tend to Tom. "We were too far behind him. He was... already down when we arrived."

"It was Moody," Gerard says. "He took the Elder Wand, too. And then he ran off after blasting Tom with it."

"We've got to get help for Tom," I say.

"It's probably already too late," Gerard says.

"We've got to try!" I snap.

"Let's get him to St. Mungo's," Cassie says, going to gather up Tom in her arms as best as she can. She's either stronger than she looks, or is just that desperate.

"You're not supposed to be able to Apparate yet," Gerard says.

"Better to get in trouble for Apparating without a license than to lose Tom," I say.

Cassie Apparates with Tom, and Gerard Side-Along Apparates with me to keep his own cover. At least for the moment, nobody in St. Mungo's is inclined to pay attention to that, however. Healers rush in to try to get emergency treatment for him.

"I'm sorry," says one of the healers. "He's beyond our help now. There's nothing we can do for him."

"Fuck," I mutter.

"Do you know who did this?"

"One of those terrorists with the Order of the Phoenix," I say, half-growling. "But he got away."

My hands are shaking. He was already down by the time I regained consciousness. I can't go back to try to prevent him from being... being _killed_. It's some small consolation that his soul is still bound to me, and he can't actually fully die. But regardless, this will complicate things, to say the least. Without him, how am I to bind Cassie's soul?

Someone from the DMLE shortly shows up to question us about the incident. My voice is shaking too much to answer him coherently, and Gerard is playing the part of a scared child, so it winds up being Cassie who tries to explain what happened.

"Also, you Apparated him here without a license?" the wizard says finally. "Normally that would be worth a fine, but since it was an emergency situation, that can be waived. You could have done more harm than good, however."

"It was the fastest way to get him here," Cassie says. "Hauling him to the nearest Floo would have been worse."

"Cassie..." I murmur softly. "Let's... Let's go home, please..."

"Alright," Cassie says. "Alright, Harry. Let's go."

Back at Caer Danas, I slump down on a couch in the main hall. "I'm sorry, Gerard. We never did get a wand for you."

"I grabbed Tom's wand," Gerard says. "I think for the moment I'd rather use a wand I'm not perfectly attuned to, than risk getting outed by Ollivander."

"Relax, Lexen," Cassie says. "It'll be alright. It's not like he's really..." She looks uneasily at Gerard.

"What?" Gerard says, raising an eyebrow. "What is it you don't want me to hear?"

"Secret," I mutter.

"Bah," Gerard says. "Enough of your secrets. Did he have a Horcrux or something?"

"I guess keeping it a secret doesn't really matter so much at the moment," I say. "Maybe you can even help." I glance around the hall. "This isn't the place for this talk, however."

Sirius and Remus are probably still asleep, but I don't want to have to explain this to Hermione. She's clever enough that she'll piece together any hints we inadvertently drop, given the opportunity.

I head over to the library, only to discover that Hermione is actually _in_ the library, with an open book and scribbling on a bit of parchment. Probably working on her summer homework or something.

"Harry?" Hermione says, looking up at me.

"Sorry, didn't realize you were in here," I say. "We'll find someplace else."

"Oh, don't let me stop you," Hermione says. "It's your house, after all."

"No, no," I say. "We were just looking for some... privacy."

Cassie clears her throat.

Hermione blinks at us. "With Gerard?"

"Uh..." I say. "No."

"Okay, you guys are behaving really oddly," Hermione says. "Are you trying to keep secrets again?"

"Bah, forget it," I say, stepping inside. "You want in on our secrets? Fine. Right now, we can use all the help we can get."

Once we're all in the room, I lock the door and put up privacy spells with my pine wand, just to make sure that Sirius and Remus don't go eavesdropping on us again and wind up hearing something unfortunate and potentially incriminating. Paranoia, really, as I'm sure at this point those two won't betray us anyway. But they don't need to know about the Soul Bonds. Well, neither do Gerard and Hermione, but they just might be able to help us somehow.

"Hermione," I say. "We were attacked while out shopping today. Moody and Tonks."

"Oh my," Hermione says. "Is everyone alright?"

"Tom's dead," Gerard says.

Hermione gasps. "How could they?"

I put up my hand. "He's not exactly fully dead. He's Soul Bound to me. So long as I'm alive, he can't actually die. And since I can't die myself... well, you get the idea."

Gerard's eyes widen. "You... How does that work?"

"We figured out a way to manage it," I say. "Or should I say, he did. Now, when I die and go back in time, he goes with me. And if he dies first, he'll just keep hanging around like a sort of wraith or something. Unfortunately, I don't know anything about necromancy or Soul Magic myself."

Hermione blinks for several long moments. "When you decide to share secrets, you drop them all at once, don't you."

"Nah," I say. "I've got plenty more that I'm going to be keeping to myself." I smirk. "Gotta keep you guessing, right?"

"So, not a Horcrux, but a Soul Bond," Gerard says. "And a two-way one at that? That's crazy..."

I give a nod. "By the way, that's the secret I mentioned for Halloween. We were planning on bonding me to Cassie then."

"So you could take other people with you when you travel through time..." Gerard says. "But if you're a time traveler, why can't you go back to before Tom died and stop it from happening?"

I shake my head. "It doesn't work that way. I'd just wind up jumping back to the moment when Cassie Rennervated me."

"You were Stunned, and that stops it?" Gerard says. "That makes no sense."

"Tell that to my power," I say, shrugging. "I don't know about _sense_. It's magic, and that's the way it works."

"But if you can only go back a few hours generally, what's the big deal about taking others with you?" Gerard says. "Aside from giving them some insurance against death like a Horcrux."

"Because it's not limited to that," I say. "If you hit me with a Killing Curse right now, I'd jump back to the summer of 1991 instead."

"Aha!" Gerard says. "I thought something seemed off about you claiming to be twenty-eight, and then saying you could only go back a day."

"That's incredible," Hermione says. "So you can always go back and fix any mistakes you made the last time through?"

I laugh bitterly. "You'd think that, wouldn't you? But it doesn't work that way. This timeline looks _nothing_ like the last one I went through. I changed so much that everything that happened after that summer is unrecognizable. And not all of it was even intentional, either. People I'd never even spoken to got sorted into different houses!"

"I can't imagine that living through the same set of years over and over would be all that pleasant, though, even if things might be radically different," Gerard says.

"There's more to it than that," I say. "And it's not like I _have_ to go back to Hogwarts. Or even to this world."

"What do you mean?" Gerard asks.

I take a deep breath. "Well, there's another one of my big secrets. At the start of any loop, I can actually choose what world I want to spend the rest of the loop in. And there's many, many worlds out there to explore. I haven't even seen the smallest fraction of them yet."

Gerard stares at me for a long moment. "Alright, _now_ I can really see why you wanted to get those Soul Bonds up."

"And, I suppose, since I'm getting this all on the table, it almost seems redundant to say that I'm not from this world, and I'm not actually Harry Potter, and never have been," I say. "Harry Potter died at the age of five, and I've just been pretending to be him. With Dumbledore's help, and later Tom Riddle's."

Hermione looks at me in shock, but Gerard shows no reaction. "How could you do something like that?" Hermione says, wide-eyed.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," I say. "Dumbledore convinced me to do it, and all because I looked vaguely like Harry Potter. He didn't want anyone to know that he'd screwed up, and the Boy-Who-Lived died under his watch."

"So that's why you wanted me to swear an oath to the Stormseeker," Gerard says. "So, Stormseeker, who are you really?"

"My real name is Lexen Chelseer," I say. "Stormseeker of the Elkandu. Heir of the Children of the Dragon's Blood."

"How could you take advantage of a poor boy's death for your own gain?" Hermione says, almost shrieking now. "Were you just looking to take advantage of his fame and status?"

"Hermione, it's not like that!" I say. "I didn't want this. I never wanted this!"

She runs to the door, points her wand at it and says, "_Alohomora_," and storms out.

"Hermione!" I cry, then mutter, "Why do I even bother locking things?"

"Because polite people generally won't barge in without good reason then," Cassie says.

"Cassie, can you go try to calm her down?" I say. Cassie nods and heads out, and I close the door again behind them with a sigh. "_Colloportus_," I mutter, locking it again for whatever good it will do.

"So, you're an immortal time traveler with access to many worlds," Gerard says. "Look, I can probably figure out this Soul Bond thing. I might even be able to find a way to resurrect our dear friend Tom. I'll do whatever I can to help you, on one condition."

"What's that?" I ask.

"Take me with you," Gerard says.

"What, bind your soul to mine as well?" I say.

"Absolutely," Gerard says. "There's nothing for me here any longer. Friends and enemies alike are all long gone. It's funny how you guys are the closest thing I have to friends now. I don't know what these other worlds you mentioned might even be like, but..."

"Neither do I," I say. "The last world I visited had people who could Shape strange monsters out of nothing in mere minutes, who would serve them obediently. And the world I grew up on, Lezaria... I don't even know how to begin to describe it."

"I want to see them," Gerard says. "While I appreciate the chance to start over again in this world, it's far too late for me, I think. I don't really want to go back to Hogwarts. I want to see what else is out there."

"I don't know," I say. "I'll have to ask Cassie about it, and I really wish I could ask Tom..."

"I'm not going to help you if you don't agree to this," Gerard says.

"You know I'd also have to get you out of prison at the start of every loop," I say.

"I'm sure you can find a way," Gerard says. "Get Albus to help if it's necessary. Blackmail the shit out of him if you need to."

I sigh. "I don't like agreeing to something like this. I hate to admit that I really do need the help. And you're not exactly horrible to be around or anything, when you aren't trying to kill me. But you can be sure that if you ever _piss me off_, you're going to wind up spending the next loop staying in prison."

"Got it," Gerard says, smirking. "You already made me swear a damned oath to you. What do you really expect me to do now?"

"Sorry," I say. "I'm paranoid and I don't trust easily."

"I can understand that," Gerard says.

The door clicks as the Locking Charm is broken, and Cassie comes back into the library. "That could have gone better."

"What happened?" I ask.

"Hermione went outside for a walk," Cassie says. "She was totally freaking out about the whole thing and would hardly speak to me."

I sigh. "I hope she doesn't do anything rash."

"It would probably be best just to Obliviate her, if she's going to react like that," Gerard says.

"Do _you_ know how to cast that spell?" I ask. "I certainly don't."

"I was never very good at it," Gerard says. "And I don't have my own wand at the moment, either."

I look to Cassie hopefully, and she shakes her head. "I was never particularly interested in dealing with other people."

"Alright," I say. "We can deal with this. Go stun her and bring her inside. I'll contact someone who can do it. Discreetly."

"The Ministry Obliviators?" Cassie says. "I can't imagine any trained Obliviator will want to get involved in this."

"Of course not," I say. "I'm going to owl Gilderoy Lockhart."

I pull out some parchment and a quill, and write a message for Lockhart. I don't really like contacting him, but he's the best I can get who can be blackmailed and bribed easily.

"Wouldn't it be easier to just go back in time to fix this?" Gerard asks over my shoulder.

"Do you _want_ me to kill myself and leave you here?" I ask. "Besides, I'd wind up going back to when Cassie Rennervated me. I don't want to go back there."

"Eh, point," Gerard says. "So who is this Lockhart?"

"A Muggleborn who is only good at Memory Charms who has everyone utterly convinced that he's a pureblood or something that has done all sorts of amazing things," I say.

"Sounds like he's good at what he does, at least..." Gerard says, raising an eyebrow.

I finish up the letter and hand it to Solomon to take off. "And you know what? I'm going to take a fucking nap."

* * *

I see Tom's face in my mind, as if trying to reach out to me, but there's nothing. There's an Abyss between us, a swirling darkness of oblivion.

"Wake up, Stormseeker," Gerard says, poking me with Tom's wand.

"Ugh," I mutter. "Just as well, I could hardly sleep anyway." I groan and get up. "What is it?"

Gerard points to Solomon, who is perched above my bed with a bit of parchment rolled up, waiting expectantly. I take the letter and give him an owl treat.

"Lockhart, I presume?" Gerard asks.

I nod. "He's agreed to my request. Let's take Hermione to him and be done with this."

"Both of us?" Gerard asks. "What about Cassie?"

"What about me?" Cassie says, coming into the room carrying a book.

"Why is everyone hanging out in my room while I'm napping?" I wonder.

"We're not hanging out," Gerard says. "We're guarding you!"

"Uh-huh," I say. "Right. Anyway. I'd like one of you to come with me, and the other to remain here. Lockhart won't be able to Obliviate both of us at once, and if he _does_ manage something, the one who stays here will know about it and can kick his ass."

"I'll go with you," Cassie says. "We're already known associates, and we can keep Gerard as our secret weapon."

"Great, now I can be your secret," Gerard says, grinning wickedly. "I think I rather prefer _being_ the secret than constantly getting told something is a secret so you're not telling me."

"Are you sure about this?" Cassie asks me. "Surely there's a better way to go about this. She'll have to see reason."

"I'm not willing to take the chance," I say. "I shouldn't have told her in the first place. She's flipped out on me when she's found out about my secrets before. Of course, that was when I told her that my father is Darth Vader."

"Wait, what?" Gerard says.

"Your Muggle research included decades-old movies?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

"I was very thorough," Gerard says, smirking.

"When did you ever find time to teach?" I wonder. "Well, anyway, I _said_ I'm from another universe. I was actually born in the universe depicted in the Star Wars movies, although I grew up on Lezaria."

Gerard looks at me like I'm insane.

I snort softly. "Don't take my word on it. I'll show you in a Pensieve later. Let's go see Lockhart, Cassie."

"This better be good," Gerard says as we head out.

I've been too paranoid to get my house hooked up to the Floo Network, even with the Fidelius Charm being down now. Cassie and I Apparate out to Diagon Alley and take the public Floo station to Lockhart's house, since we haven't actually been there ourselves. The only potential problem is that we get a few odd looks since I'm carrying a still-unconscious Hermione. I'm not sure that I care at the moment, however.

We're barely out of the fireplace, when Lockhart begins, "_Obliv-_"

His wand is thrown out of his hand by a flick of Cassie's wand and not even a word spoken. "Don't try anything," Cassie says.

I growl softly, and lay Hermione down on a nearby couch. I mutter another Stunner at her for good measure. I really don't want to have to fight her.

"Ah, welcome, welcome," says Lockhart, clear nervousness in his voice smoothly masked with flashing pearly white teeth. "As you probably already know, I am Gilderoy Lockhart. Welcome to my home."

"Pretending that you didn't just try to Obliviate us won't help you," I snarl, pointing my wand at him. "_Crucio!_" Lockhart screams, but I only keep it up for one second. "_Never_ mess with me or my friends."

"Ah, ah, my apologies," Lockhart says quickly. "I must say, I am curious as to how you found out about me."

"That's a secret," I say, still keeping my wand trained on him. "And unfortunately, Hermione here found out my secrets and reacted badly to them. The only one of my group who was good with Memory Charms is unavailable now, unfortunately."

"So, what do you need me to make her forget?" Lockhart asks.

"Can you make her think she spent the entire day studying in the library and not talking to anyone?" I ask.

"I can do that," Lockhart says. "I'm still curious as to how you found out, but very well."

"Be assured that my method is one that isn't available to anyone else," I say. "Let's leave it at that."

Lockhart gives a nod, and goes to pick up his wand again. He points it at me and says, "_Obli-_"

I wordlessly cast a Lightning Curse at him while Cassie disarms him again. Lockhart goes flying back against the wall and slides down to the floor. "Didn't I warn you about that?" I go up to him and say, "_Crucio!_" I keep it up for five seconds this time before releasing him with a snarl.

Lockhart stops screaming again and lies on the floor, panting and twitching. "Sorry, sorry, so sorry..." he murmurs.

"Knock that off," I say. "I need this done, but I can do it just as easily with you under the Imperius Curse instead. Is that what you want?"

"That won't be necessary," Lockhart says quickly. "I'll do what you ask. May I have my wand back?"

I give a nod, and say, "I'm still watching you."

Lockhart gets up and retrieves his wand. He goes over and points it at Hermione, and says, "_Obliviate._" After a few moments, he says, "It's done. Would you please leave my home now?"

I give a nod, and say, "Thank you. This could have been a lot easier on you if you hadn't been a moron."

I go over and pick up Hermione in my arms again. As I turn my back on Lockhart, he says again, "_Oblivia-_"

Cassie is too quick for him. Lockhart's wand goes clattering away, and he's thrown back against the wall again.

I growl softly, rage boiling in my veins. I gently set Hermione down on the couch again, and pull my wand on Lockhart. "_CRUCIO!_"

Lockhart lays on the floor, screaming and writhing under my curse. There's few things that anger me more than the idea of being Obliviated.

After a minute or so, Cassie says quietly, "Harry." She puts her hand on my shoulder when I don't respond, and says more forcefully, "Harry! Harry, that's enough."

I release Lockhart from the curse, and glance aside to Cassie. "Sorry, got a little carried away."

Lockhart groans softly and rubs his head.

"Let's just go," Cassie says.

I give a nod, and collect Hermione again. "We're leaving now, Lockhart. I think that's been enough of a warning for you. Do _not_ piss me off. I'll do more than just expose you for the fraud you are."

Cassie and I Apparate back to Caer Danas, and I go to put Hermione in her room. I set up a contingency spell to Rennervate her in the morning.

"Was that really necessary?" Cassie asks. "Poor Hermione."

"I told you, I'm not taking any chances," I say.

"And Lockhart!" Cassie says. "Did he really deserve that?"

"You don't know what he did to me and my friends in my last life here," I say. "I killed him, then. He got off easy this time, just because I needed him."

"Ah, you're back," Gerard says from the doorway. "I'm still eagerly awaiting however you're going to explain the things you told me earlier."

"Right," I say. "Let's head over to the Malfoys'."

The three of us Apparate over to Malfoy Manor. Narcissa answers the door, and says, "Ah, Draco's friends from school. Come on in, I'm sure he'll be happy to see you."

We head in, and find Draco and Lucius further inside. "I don't suppose you've heard the news yet?" I ask.

"What is it?" Draco asks.

"Tom's dead," I say. "Well, as dead as he was before, anyway, but at least he wasn't defeated by a baby this time. Moody and Tonks ambushed us in Knockturn Alley."

"Fuck," Draco utters.

"Language, dear," Narcissa says absently.

"Also, we need to use your Pensieve for a moment, if you don't mind," I say.

"Go ahead," Lucius says. "With the Headmaster dead, I'll need to go and deal with school matters..."

"Of course," I say. "I know where it is."

I lead Gerard off to the Pensieve room, followed by Cassie and Draco. I have no intention of showing this to Draco, however, but this was the only Pensieve I knew about that we would readily be able to use. Using the one in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts might be problematic at the moment.

I go up to the Pensieve and put in the relevant memories from my homeworld, ones about my family discussing my father, and enough for him to get a feel for Lezaria and Torn Elkandu. I even put in a short bit from my first day on Terrestia, too.

"There you go, Gerard, it's ready for you," I say. Gerard nods and plunges into the Pensieve.

"What're you showing him?" Draco asks. "And who is he, anyway?"

"Gerard Boltwood," I say. "Formerly known as Gellert Grindelwald. I trust that you can keep that secret, since you've kept our others."

Draco's eyes widen. "I see. Yeah."

"Why, you afraid you'd have to take Draco to see Lockhart, too?" Cassie says. "I'm sure he'd be quite willing to cooperate after you Crucioed him three times."

"Wait, what?" Draco says.

"Sorry, Cassie," I say. "No way am I letting Draco get Obliviated. I just don't like people threatening my friends, and I really hate Obliviation."

"So Hermione isn't your friend?" Cassie says. "And if you hate it so much, why'd you have him Obliviate her?"

"What did you do to Hermione?" Draco demands.

I rub my head and sigh. "It's for the best, alright? I didn't want to have to do it, but..."

"So don't do it!" Cassie says. "Aren't you the one who is always going on about choices?"

"I know," I say, shaking my head. "I guess I just... took the easy way out rather than trying to talk through it. I'm sorry. Maybe it was a mistake. I guess I'm just really on edge today, and my patience is running thin."

"I've noticed," Cassie says dryly. "So long as you admit your mistake. But I'm not letting you down easy from this."


	28. Derailed Plans

**Chapter 28: Derailed Plans**

Gerard is shrewd enough to wait until we get home to mention what he saw in the Pensieve. "I'll believe you now."

"What did he show you?" Cassie asks.

It's getting late, and Sirius and Remus are out for an emergency meeting at Hogwarts. I can't believe that just this morning, Tom was cheerfully having breakfast with us. A sight that might not be seen again in this life. The three of us are holed up in the library now.

"He showed me the world he's from, a conversation with his family, a few other worlds," Gerard says. "It's quite remarkable." He grins broadly. "I never dreamed of something like the Nexus. I feel like some poor peasant, living in a little village my entire life, and only now suddenly realizing that there's a whole world out there."

"I'm looking forward to it," Cassie says neutrally, looking at Gerard with a carefully blank expression.

"What I want to know is, was Moody after the Elder Wand, or after me, or after Tom?" I wonder.

"He probably only took it because it had belonged to Dumbledore," Cassie says.

"I'm betting he was after Tom," Gerard says.

"He didn't stick around to fight the rest of us," I say. "And I imagine that he only Stunned me because he knew it would disrupt my Time Magic."

Gerard yawns wearily, and heads out of the library to go to bed, leaving me alone with Cassie.

"Why did you bring Grindelwald in on this?" Cassie asks. "I probably could have figured out the Soul Bonding thing myself, given the time to research it."

"I want to make sure we get this right this time," I say. "I don't want anymore potentially fatal delays."

"I suppose I understand that," Cassie says. "Even if I'm not sure I like the idea of spending eternity with him. I suppose he's not exactly utterly abhorrent or anything. Listen, seriously, if something happens to me before you get the chance to bond me, I want you to come and find me again. I don't care if I don't remember you. I'll still be me, and I'll still want to come along. And I'm sure that whatever happens, I will still come to love you again. Alright?"

"Cassie..." I say.

"Please promise me that," Cassie says.

I let out a heavy sigh, and nod. "Alright, Cassie. I promise."

Cassie leans over and kisses me softly. "Thank you."

We head for bed. I toss and turn and find that I can't sleep for shit at the moment. Every time I close my eyes, fears and worries about those I care about fill my mind. Sighing heavily, I order Dobby to bring me some firewhiskey.

* * *

"Have you been drinking again?" Cassie says, folding her arms across the chest and standing in the doorway.

"I had a long day, okay?" I mutter, groaning softly.

"And now you have a hangover," Cassie says, sighing and rolling her eyes. She comes over and grabs my arm. "Come on. Let's get you some breakfast."

"Alright, alright," I grumble. "You don't have to drag me downstairs."

When we get down to the dining area, I realize that it must be later than I thought. Sirius and Remus are eating breakfast at the moment.

"Why does my godson smell like a brewery?" Sirius asks.

"Yesterday was a long day," I say, flopping down in a chair and waiting for Dobby to bring me food.

"No shit," Sirius says.

"Headmaster Riddle's death has caused quite the stir," Remus says. "I believe Professor McGonagall is going to be taking over as Headmistress now."

"And she was talking to me about taking up the slack for her Transfiguration classes," Sirius says. "Merlin, I wanted to get a position at Hogwarts, but this wasn't the way I'd expected to get one."

"What happened, Harry?" Remus says. "I was told that you reported a member of the Order of the Phoenix killed Riddle."

"Moody and Tonks ambushed us," I explain, forcing myself to eat.

"Damn, Moody wouldn't accept that Voldemort was really dead, but I didn't think he'd go that far," Sirius says.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Remus says. "I know you were fond of him." I almost choke on my hash browns. "_Anapneo_," Remus says absently, clearing my throat with the spell.

"If you were trying to hide it, you were doing a pretty poor job of it," Sirius says.

"You knew?" I say, looking at them incredulously.

Sirius rolls his eyes. "I saw the way you looked at each other and interacted when you were home. Besides, it's not like you're _actually_ a fifteen year old, even if he _was_ the Headmaster."

"He made you happy," Remus says. "I couldn't see any reason to complain about that. And for that, I'm sorry that he's gone."

"Yeah..." I say quietly, looking down at my plate.

"At least you're taking it better than me," Sirius says. "You just got drunk, and didn't run off and get yourself thrown in Azkaban like a blind fool."

"Will you be alright, Harry?" Remus asks.

"I'm fine," I insist. "It's not- It's not like I'll never be able to see him again. Maybe in the next loop, I won't screw things up quite so badly..."

"That's some consolation, I suppose," Sirius says. "One that the rest of us don't get. Lucky you."

After breakfast, I head over to Tom's room to poke around, perhaps in some hope that he left notes or something about the Soul Bonding ritual. I doubt that, but maybe there's something there that might help nonetheless.

Stashed away in a trunk under the bed, I find several objects. I recognize the locket, but there's also a cup, a tiara, and a ring. Were these his former Horcruxes?

"What are you looking at?" says Gerard from the doorway.

"Tom left some stuff in here," I say. "Do you happen to recognize any of this?" I gesture toward the objects in the trunk.

Gerard comes over and crouches down next to me to examine them more closely. "Hmm. This cup has a badger on it. Might be connected to Hufflepuff. The locket is Slytherin for sure. A diadem with a sapphire... Ravenclaw, maybe? Wonder if it _could_ be Ravenclaw's lost diadem. And this ring... Wait, that's the symbol of the Deathly Hallows on the stone!"

"Deathly Hallows?" I say, raising an eyebrow. "I thought there was a wand, a cloak, and a stone. You didn't mention a ring."

"No, no," Gerard says. "I think it's the Resurrection Stone that's been set into this ring."

"You mean to say that Tom had the Resurrection Stone all this time?" I say.

"He probably didn't even realize what he had," Gerard says.

"Do you suppose we could use this to bring him back?" I say.

"Maybe," Gerard says. "Look, you promised to take me with you. You're not going to go back on that even if you don't actually need me, will you?"

"Of course not," I say. "I keep my promises."

"You better," Gerard says.

"First and foremost, I believe in freedom for all beings," I say. "That includes you. I don't like the idea of locking somebody up for decades like that. Better to simply kill them."

"I agree," Gerard says. "Although I might be a bit biased now." He smirks.

"Alright, let's see how this thing works," I say, putting on the ring.

I can certainly _feel_ the magic in it. I rub it and will it to activate, thinking of Tom Riddle. After a moment, a shimmering image appears in front of me, of Tom just as I remember him. He is unfortunately translucent, however. He's not fully here. Still, I have to grin broadly at seeing him again, even in this form.

"Ah, what's this?" Tom says, peering about. "Harry, what did you do?"

"I used this ring you had in your room," I say. "Grindelwald says it's the Resurrection Stone."

"It doesn't appear to have actually resurrected me, however," Tom says. "All it did was allow my wraith form to manifest more easily."

"Disappointing," Gerard says. "Once, I had hoped to make an army of undead with that stone..."

"Maybe if we actually had your body on hand..." I say. "But you were able to manifest physically before without a body."

"I had a lot of energy available then," Tom says. "I spent an entire year siphoning it off and culminating in a living sacrifice on the Summer Solstice for the final push."

"There has to be something we can do," I say.

"Do they already know I'm dead?" Tom asks.

"Yeah," I say.

"It would be awfully complicated to explain my coming back to life," Tom says, shaking his head. "I would need to stay in hiding. Better than being a wraith, though."

"Having a body would make it easier, though," Gerard says.

"Maybe it's still at St. Mungo's," I say.

"Couldn't hurt to find out," Tom says.

The image of Tom vanishes, and I head out for the main hall.

Cassie intercepts me on the way to the door and says, "Going somewhere?"

"St. Mungo's," I say. "We might have a way to resurrect Tom."

Cassie's eyes widen. "I've got your back."

The three of us Apparate over outside of St. Mungo's and head inside. Hopefully nobody's going to notice that we Apparated here, but I'm in entirely too much of a hurry to bother hiding it better.

"Can I help you?" says a witch in the lobby. "Is one of you hurt?"

I shake my head. "No. We brought our friend here yesterday. He- He didn't make it. We were hoping to see his body."

"Ah, let me see," the witch says. "I'm sorry for your loss. What was his name? And could you give me your names as well?"

"His name was Tom Riddle," I say. "I'm Harry Potter, and this is Cassiopeia Black and Gerard Boltwood."

"Harry Potter?" the witch says, looking more alarmed than anything else. "Hmm, yes, matches the description given," she says barely audibly, then speaks up. "I will show you to the morgue. If you'll follow me, please."

The three of us follow as she leads us down a corridor and through a couple of doorways. She brings us straight to the morgue, and leaves us there.

"Excellent," I murmur once she's gone. "Now to just find Tom's body."

We find it after some searching, and I uncover the body with a frown. He's badly wounded. Even if I could shove his soul back into his body, it would still take some doing to heal all the damage, I would think. Regardless, it's worth a shot.

Then I notice that we're no longer alone in the room. While we were busy staring at Tom's mangled body, a squad of Aurors has shown up, pointing wands at us.

"Freeze!" says the lead auror. "Step away from the body, and keep your hands away from your wands."

There's half a dozen of them, to three of us. I have no idea whether we could take them or not. I try to stay calm. We haven't done anything wrong. That they can pin on us, anyway.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"I'm Kingsley Shacklebolt. You, Harry Potter, are hereby under arrest for use of the Cruciatus Curse against one Gilderoy Lockhart."

Oh. _That_ they can pin on me.

"So, that's how it's going to be, then," I say. "Let my friends go free. They had nothing to do with it."

"No," Gerard says. "I stand with you, Stormseeker."

"My life for the Stormseeker," Cassie says.

Both of them have wands in their hands in an instant, pointed at the Aurors, and I pull out mine as well.

"_Protego!_" I say. "Death before Azkaban." I narrow my eyes at them through the shield that shimmers into view.

"So be it," Shacklebolt says.

A fierce battle of curses breaks out in the morgue. We bring down a couple of the Aurors, but they're too much for us. A curse pierces straight through my chest like a lance, and I drop.

* * *

"You've been drinking again, haven't you," says Cassie.

I groan softly. "Shit."

"And you have a hangover, too," Cassie adds. She takes hold of my arm and hauls me to my feet. "Let's get you something in your stomach."

"Cassie, I just died," I say.

Cassie stops and looks at me in alarm. "What happened?"

"Aurors," I say. "Lockhart reported me. Fuck."

Cassie almost drops me. "That's bad."

"No shit," I say.

I head over into Tom's room and pull out the trunk from under the bed. I scoop the items inside into my bag of holding, except for the ring, which I slide onto my finger.

"What are these?" Cassie asks.

"Stuff," I reply. "No idea what most of them are. But the ring? It's the Resurrection Stone. We were trying to test it on Tom's body, but we didn't get the chance to."

I rub the stone and think of Tom, activating it and bringing his image into existence before me again. "Did we jump back?" Tom asks. "What happened?"

"Um..." I say. "I fucked up."

"What _happened_?" Tom presses.

"Aurors are after me," I say. "And I'm sure they had a report on me before I woke up this morning."

"What did you do?" Tom asks.

"Used the Cruciatus Curse on Gilderoy Lockhart," I reply.

"Three times," Cassie adds helpfully.

Tom sighs exasperatedly. "Reckless. No matter. Time for a new plan. Everything's a mess. Forget trying to resurrect me. I can handle a few months as a wraith. Avoid capture until Halloween. Get the ritual done. And then we can get out of this world."

"Tom, we're bringing Grindelwald along with us as well," I say.

"If that's what you want, then I won't argue," Tom says. "Are you certain it's wise, however?"

"He just stood by my side and refused to retreat even though it meant certain death or Azkaban," I say.

"Very well," Tom says. "I think we can manage to bind both of them on Halloween, but if not, we can try to hold out for the Winter Solstice."

"Let's just focus on making it to Halloween," I say. "What should we do?"

"The wards on this place should be able to hold out the Aurors for a while, but they'll know you're here," Tom says. "Don't count on remaining safe here for long. They'll bring in someone that can crack the wards. Find someplace else to hide, but always have an alternate escape route. Leave the country if you can."

"What's going on?" Gerard asks from the doorway.

"I'm going on the run to avoid getting chucked into Azkaban," I say. "And while I might not strictly need your expertise to get the Soul Bond up, there's no way in the Abyss I'm leaving you behind if I can possibly help it."

"Tom?" Gerard says, staring at the image. "A ghost?"

I hold up my hand and show him the ring. "Apparently, Tom had the Resurrection Stone and didn't realize it."

Tom looks over Gerard, and says, "I'll explain the ritual in more detail when we have time and a more secure location."

Gerard gives a nod. "Very well. I'm the one most experienced with this sort of magic here, so I'll be having to perform it, then."

"Let's pack up what we can that we might need," I say. I pull out my bag of holding and hand it to Cassie. "I'm going to go have a talk with Sirius and Remus."

Even though the Aurors aren't after them, after that display at St. Mungo's, there's no way in hell that I'm going to try to convince them to stay behind and just to meet up with me for the ritual later. There's no way that they would agree to that. These people would kill for me, die for me, follow me straight into the Abyss. We may not always agree on everything, but it's comforting to see that when surrounded by fire, I have friends that I can count on.

Sirius and Remus are downstairs in the dining area, finishing up breakfast. "Have you been drinking, Harry?" Sirius asks.

"Never mind that," I say. "I thought you should know that I'm going on the run to avoid being sent to Azkaban."

Sirius looks at me in shock. "What in the world happened?"

"Well, I'm actually _guilty_ of the crime they've accused me of, is the trouble," I say. "I won't bother arguing whether the victim deserved it or not, but I got sloppy. I think I'll murder him for good measure if I get the opportunity, bastard."

"What did you _do_, Harry?" Remus asks.

"I used the Cruciatus Curse on someone," I say. "I'll make no excuse about it. I was off-balance and easily angered after Tom's death, but I should have had more control than that."

"You're the Boy-Who-Lived, and the one who defeated Voldemort, twice even," Remus says. "Surely we can find some way to get you off."

"Maybe," I say. "I'm counting on you two to try to find one. Meanwhile, however, I need to disappear."

"You can count on us, Harry," Sirius says. "You got me out of Azkaban. I'm not going to let my godson get sent to that hellhole, either."

"Thanks," I say. "I appreciate it." I smile at him.

I head back out to the main hall and meet up with Cassie and Gerard. I suppose there isn't much point in calling him by a false name anymore, but he's still our secret weapon. They won't know who he is or what he's capable of.

"We've got another problem," Cassie says. "It's Hermione."

I groan. "What _now?_"

"Lockhart lied," Cassie says. "She was curled up in her room, terrified. When I asked her what was wrong, she babbled out a tearful confession. Apparently, you tortured and raped her yesterday."

"I _what_?" I exclaim.

"Should've just used the Imperius Curse on him," Gerard says.

"I'm going to _kill_ that Mudblood bastard," I say. "How could he traumatize Hermione like that just to frame me for another crime?"

"No argument there," Cassie says grimly.

I sigh, and turn to head back into the dining area. "I've got another complication, guys."

"What now?" Sirius asks.

"Hermione's memories have been modified," I say. "But I swear on my life and my magic that I have never raped _anyone_." I growl softly.

"She... what?" Remus says. "Who did this?"

"Gilderoy Lockhart," I say. "I'm going to fucking _murder_ him. I don't care what happens next. I'm going back soon. I'm going to be with Tom again. All I need to do is hold out until after Halloween."

"Harry, I'm sure we can find a way to clear your name," Remus says.

"Do what you can, but don't risk yourselves in the process," I say. "I won't place any bets, however. I just wanted you to know what's up, so you aren't finding out things and getting the wrong idea."

"Thanks, Harry," Sirius says. "Good luck."

I chuckle softly. "Every time someone wishes me luck, something horrible happens. But thanks anyway."

I head back into the main hall, where Cassie and Gerard are waiting. Cassie hands me back my bag of holding.

"So where are we going?" Gerard asks.

"Let's hole up at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place for the moment," I say. "I'm sure Kreacher won't mind the company."

We head out and Apparate over to the old Black residence, Gerard doing Side-Along with Cassie since he hasn't been there before. We enter the house and come up to the painting of Walburga Black.

"Hmm?" Walburga says, stirring and look at us. "Oh, you two are back. And who have you brought here?"

"Gerard Boltwood," Gerard says.

"He's a friend of ours," I say. "Don't worry, he's totally a pureblood."

"Oh, good," Walburga says.

"Walburga, what are the defenses on this house like?" Cassie asks.

I nod. "We've got trouble, and we may not want to stay here for long. They'll probably guess we've come here sooner or later."

"This is the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black," Walburga says. "Our wards could hold off a siege!"

Gerard, peering about, says, "That may have been true once, but they've been left to deteriorate and haven't been maintained very well lately."

I sigh. "We can't stay here. What about Riddle Manor?"

"Does it have decent wards?" Cassie asks.

"I don't know," I say. "I think it was actually a Muggle house."

"They might think to look for us there, too," Cassie says. "We're known to have been associated with Tom Riddle."

"We can hide in the Muggle world," Gerard says.

"Damn it, Gerard, we're purebloods, the only reason we might have any hope of functioning in the Muggle world is Tom having made Muggle Studies a required course for us," I say.

"All the better," Gerard says. "They won't even consider that we might try to hide among the Muggles."

"Filthy Muggles," Walburga mutters. "What are you on the run from, anyway?"

"Aurors," I say. "After all the crimes I've committed, I finally got pinned with something. I don't care to go to Azkaban, so I don't intend to let them find me."

"What did you do?" Walburga wonders.

"That I got caught with?" I say, smirking. "I used the Cruciatus Curse upon a Mudblood."

"Three times," Cassie adds.

"Yes, thank you," I say, smirking. "I've also kill some people, but didn't get caught. I glance aside at Gerard. "I'm not sure if I actually wound up telling you in a timeline that ended up sticking, but I'm actually the one who murdered Dumbledore."

"What?" Gerard says. "_You?_" He barks a laugh. "Good on you, I say. Thanks for that."

"Alright, let's stay here for the night," I say. "We're going to need to acquire some Muggle clothing."

"It's in the bag," Cassie says. "I brought some along just in case."

"Ah, good thinking, Cassie," I say.


	29. Hiding

**Chapter 29: Hiding**

"Well, that could have gone better," I say, flopping down on the couch in Grimmauld Place the next evening. It might not be the most secure place, but it's all we have at the moment.

"I never realized how many bits of parchment you need just to convince Muggles of who you are," Cassie says.

"Paper," Gerard corrects her. "Not parchment."

"Whatever," Cassie says.

"I'd been mostly worried about the scars on my face making me easily recognizable," I say. "I thought it would be a simple matter to get some work for some Muggle money and a place to stay. Why do they need to make everything so complicated?"

"Alright, do we have another plan?" Cassie says.

"Murder Lockhart?" I suggest.

"That's not really a plan," Cassie says. "And I don't think that'll really help us."

"I don't care," I say. "I want him dead."

"Can we at least kill him in such a way that it isn't blatantly obvious that he was murdered?" Cassie says, smirking.

"I want him to suffer," I growl quietly.

"There's no need to torture him again," Cassie says. "Just kill him, in the most expedient way possible, alright?"

"Cassie..." I say, sighing.

"I mean it!" Cassie says. "If he deserves to die, then just kill him. There's nothing to justify making him suffer."

"Fine," I say, shaking my head. "I want to take a nap and then hit him tonight."

"What's the defenses on his house like?" Gerard asks.

"I don't know," I say. "I wasn't really paying attention when we were there last. But he's an inept Mudblood. How effective could they be?"

"He's an inept Mudblood with enough money to pay for someone competent to ward his house," Cassie points out. "We should be cautious."

After taking a three hour nap, we head out and Apparate near Lockhart's place, Cassie doing Side-Along for Gerard since he didn't go with us last time. We try to stay out of sight, avoid being noticed by any of the Muggles living in the neighborhood.

"Alright, let's stake out the place," I whisper, peering out at Lockhart's house from over a rhododendron bush. "What do the defenses look like?"

"It's warded," Gerard says. "Nothing particularly dangerous, though."

"Probably more intended to keep out his throngs of raving fans than actually hurt anyone," Cassie says.

"Exactly," Gerard says. "It's the home of a Mudblood with an overly large ego, not a pureblood dark wizard. His defenses aren't serious."

"Can we get through them without alerting anyone to our presence, though?" I ask.

"Doubtful," Gerard says. "Alarms will go off the minute the wards are pierced. But from what you've said, he won't be much of a fight."

"I'm just concerned about any Aurors showing up or something," I say.

"Hmm," Gerard says. "I think we can make it so any alarms that go off are restricted to inside the house, and no signals getting sent outside. Cassie, help me out with this one."

I stand by watching as the two of them work magic well above my level upon the house and its wards. I keep alert and look about the street to make sure we haven't attracted any unwanted attention, Muggle or otherwise. After about fifteen minutes, there's a soft cracking sound, and a faint pulse of light around the house.

"We're in," Gerard whispers.

The three of us waste no time in heading inside. There's no sign of Lockhart in the first room we enter, so we look around a bit to try to find him.

"Could he have realized we were coming and Flooed out?" I whisper.

"Maybe," Gerard says. "Though he could just be hiding."

We hunt around for him, poking into every room, wands out and alert for any trouble. He might not be much of a threat, but we don't want to take any chances and be caught off-guard.

"_Obliviate!_" says a voice from the shadows behind a door.

We're caught off-guard. Cassie stumbles, looking dazed. I growl in rage and let a burst of lightning fly through my wand and strike our enemy. Lockhart's wand flies out of his hand with a flick of Gerard's wand.

"You're going to regret that, you Mudblood bastard," I snarl. "And you're going to regret what you did to Hermione! _CRUCIO!_"

Lockhart screams and falls to the floor, writhing in agony. I hold the spell on him, letting my rage take its toll and gaining some satisfaction in his suffering. Gerard doesn't stop me.

After several minutes, there's a hand on my shoulder. "Lexen. Stop. Please stop," says Cassie.

I release the spell and look aside at her. "Cassie, are you alright?"

"I have no idea how we got here, but I can guess what happened," Cassie says. "The last thing I remember was laying down for a nap. Obliviated the last couple hours?"

I breathe a sigh of relief. "I was afraid... Merlin, I hate Obliviation."

Lockhart is laying on the floor, twitching still. I glance down at him and give him a swift kick for good measure.

"Please, Lexen," Cassie says. "Just kill him. Don't torture him for my sake."

"If you ever feel like torturing anyone for _my_ sake, though, feel free," Gerard puts in.

"Grindelwald!" Cassie snaps.

"Alright, let's put an end to this," I say. I point my wand at him, and say, "_Avada Kedavra!_" A flash of green light strikes Lockhart, and he finally goes still.

Cassie lets out a heavy breath. "Alright, let's get out of here. Before anything else goes wrong."

As we turn to leave, I pause at the top of the stairs. I think I heard something from downstairs. I hold up my hand to stop the others and put a finger to my lips. Definitely heard something. There's voices, people moving around downstairs. I scramble back into Lockhart's bedroom.

I try to Apparate out, but no such luck. Either the house was already warded against Apparating, or whoever is down there put up Anti-Apparation wards when they came in.

I look around for a place to hide. There's a large walk-in closet full of clothing of various hideous designs. I head inside and gesture to the others to follow. We're still too conspicuous in here. I pull out the invisibility cloak from my bag and drape it over us, and shrink myself down to ten years old to make for an easier fit.

Heavy footsteps ascend the stairs and enter into the bedroom. "Lockhart," says a man's voice.

"Not a mark on him," says a different voice. "The Killing Curse, no doubt."

"Any sign of the killer?"

"Could still be here. Keep sharp."

Cassie's hand squeezes my shoulder. All three of us have our wands out, at the ready, pointing toward the door. But hopefully they won't see us. I just hope Moody isn't with them. I don't think I heard his voice. Scarsely daring to breathe, the three of us wait while the Aurors search the building. One _Homenum Revelio_ will get us into hot water, but they need to actually cast it near us for that.

An Auror opens the door to the closet, shines the lit end of his wand toward us, and then closes the door again without a closer check. My heart pounds as footsteps recede.

"No sign of the culprit. He must have gotten away."

"Sod it. We weren't quick enough. He probably just killed him and fled immediately."

After several more tense minutes, the room outside the closet goes quiet, and I try to Apparate again. This time, it works, and I arrive in front of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, momentarily followed by Cassie and Gerard. We head inside in a rush and I slump down on the couch, panting softly.

"That was too close," Cassie says.

"We must have missed some alarm somewhere," Gerard says. "Maybe not even on the wards themselves."

"You were right," I say. "Should've just gone in and killed him, and gotten out. I wasted time making the bastard suffer for it."

"I've never seen you use that curse on anyone else," Cassie says. "What's gotten into you lately?"

"I used it on Rodolphus Lestrange," I say. "But that was mainly to prove to Tom that I could cast it." I sigh. "I guess I've just been on edge lately, but I also _really_ don't like Lockhart."

Gerard picks up the cloak from where I'd left it laying on the couch next to me. "Wait. Lexen. This cloak has the symbol of the Deathly Hallows on it!"

"Yeah, that's the Cloak of Invisibility," I say offhandedly.

"You never mentioned this before," Gerard says. "How long have you had it?"

"It belonged to James Potter," I say. "Got Dumbledore to give it to me shortly after I arrived in this world. James had left it in his keeping."

"So Albus had gotten his hands on two of them at one point," Gerard says. "And now you've had two of them and lost one before you found the third one. With any luck, we can get the Elder Wand back, though."

"That would require facing Moody again," I say. "And has a very high chance of getting us killed. If we run into him, fine, but I'm not going to actively seek him out until _after_ you two are bonded to me."

"Nothing ever comes without risk," Gerard says. "But there's a point to that."

I take the cloak and shove it back into my bag. "At least there shouldn't be anything to connect us to the crime this time. You guys can get some sleep if you want. I'm going to stay up, just in case."

"I'm not sleeping if you aren't," Cassie says.

"And we still haven't solved the problem of where to hide," Gerard says. "If anything, they'll be after us all the more if they even so much as suspect we were involved in Lockhart's death. Which they will."

"Cassie, does this house have a back exit?" I ask.

"Of course," Cassie says. "Right past the gardens."

"Can I set up a contingency spell to wake me if any wizard shows up within a mile of here?" I say.

"Probably too large of an area," Gerard says. "Now, the immediate area around the house, that would be doable."

"I'd just hate to get trapped here," I say.

"Well, I already told Kreacher that if anyone shows up looking for us, we were never here," Cassie says.

"We should probably find someplace else as soon as possible," Gerard says. "Especially now that we've less than subtly actually killed someone."

"The Malfoys are still loyal," I say. "But the Aurors will definitely think to check there for us. Hmm... I do have a Muggleborn who owes me a life debt."

"Does anyone know about any connection between you?" Gerard asks.

I shake my head. "We've only even met all of once. Dumbledore would know, but he's not telling anyone anymore. I don't even know where he lives, though."

"We can still get a message to him, though," Cassie says.

I give a nod. "That we can." I think of the rainbow after the storm. "_Expecto Patronum._" A shimmering silvery duck emerges from my wand. "Can you get a message to Dirk Cresswell, if he's awake? Tell him, I need your help. I've been framed for a crime I didn't commit. I'm calling in your debt." This is true, even though I've been accused of other crimes that I actually _did_ commit. The duck nods and zips away.

"Assuming he's even still awake at the moment," Gerard says. "It's almost one in the morning."

I wait for several minutes, wondering just how fast a Patronus can move when it's not having to deal with Dementors. One night at Hogwarts in another life, it took a Patronus hours to get through a horde of Dementors, just between the Forbidden Forest and the castle.

Then, a translucent Patronus in the form of a warthog charges into the room. "I will help. Do you have a safe place where we can meet?"

"Can we trust him?" Gerard asks.

"If he betrays us..." I say, sighing and shaking my head. "We'll deal with that if it happens. _Expecto Patronum_." The duck appears before me again. "Tell Dirk Cresswell to meet me in Hogsmeade behind Madam Puddifoot's."

I get up, and pull out my invisibility cloak, and pass it over to Cassie. "You two get under that and make it look like I've gone there alone. Just in case."

We Apparate over to Hogsmeade, and I'm careful to stay out of sight as much as possible myself while the others are under the cloak. I make my way to the rendezvous point, and wait. I remain on alert for a possible ambush, trusting my friends to have my back.

"Harry?" says a quiet voice nearby. I turn, almost jumping toward the source. "It's alright, it's me, Dirk Cresswell."

I look around warily, not lowering my wand. "_Muffliato_," I mutter to ensure us some privacy. "You came alone?"

"Yeah," Dirk says. "What do you need from me? Do you need a place to hide?"

"I do," I reply. "For myself and two others."

"I can put you in my attic for a while, if you don't mind," Dirk says. "There's plenty of room up there, and I doubt anyone would think to look for you there."

"Thanks," I say. "Much appreciated. Cassie? Gerard?"

They pull off the cloak and hand it over to me, and I put it away again. Without asking any further questions, Dirk Apparates the three of us over to his home one by one. He quietly leads us up two flights of stairs to a rather spacious attic, cluttered with baby furniture and miscellaneous objects.

Cassie waves her wand a bit and says, "There, they won't hear us in the rest of the house now."

Dirk nods. "You'll have to stay up here for now. I can't risk the boys finding out you're here. They're too young to understand, and might let something slip. I do hope that whatever you've done won't put my family in danger, however."

"I don't think so," I say. "It's Aurors that are after us, not Death Eaters."

"Might I ask what you've been falsely accused of?" Dirk asks.

"Someone modified Hermione Granger's memories to make her think that I tortured and raped her, which I did not and would never do," I reply. "And they believe I used the Cruciatus Curse on Gilderoy Lockhart as well." I don't mention that the latter one is actually true.

"That's... not good," Dirk says.

"Sirius Black and Remus Lupin are working to try to clear my name, but in the meantime, I have no intention of going to Azkaban, and my friends here refused to let me go into hiding alone."

"I can't blame you for not wanting to get sent to that place," Dirk says. "You should be safe here for now, though. And I can feel assured that the Aurors aren't likely to blow up my house in order to get at you."

"Thanks, Dirk," I say. "For this, you can consider any debts between us to be paid in full."

Dirk gives a nod. "I'd best get to bed. I'll sneak some food up for you in the morning." He heads back downstairs.

"This place will definitely suffice," Gerard says as Cassie starts transfiguring the furniture into beds, chairs, and a table for us. "No one will guess that we're here. Of course, we'll be practically prisoners here for the next few months."

"At least we're not alone," I say. "And there's no Dementors here."

"You make a good point," Gerard says. "Going to get awfully boring, though."

I open up my bag of holding and pull out all of the books that I've been hauling around. "I brought reading material."

"Wait, is that the _Codex Veritatum_?" Gerard says, eyes widening. "Alright, I'm not complaining anymore."

* * *

The next morning around nine, Dirk brings us up a fair amount of food and a copy of today's _Daily Prophet_. "Looks like this Gilderoy Lockhart you mentioned is dead," Dirk says. "By the Killing Curse, most likely, and you're the prime suspect."

"I was afraid of that," I say, sighing as I take the paper and look it over, grabbing a bagel and munching on it.

"So, did you actually kill him?" Dirk asks.

I almost choke on my bagel. "What?"

"I believe you about Hermione Granger," Dirk says. "But you came to me less than an hour after Lockhart was found dead. Look, I'm obligated to help you either way, I'd just like the truth."

I give a nod, and say, "Yeah. I killed Lockhart. Because he planted those false memories in Hermione. I know it was rash, but I couldn't believe someone could do something like that to someone, and Hermione was my friend..."

"I understand," Dirk says. "I might've done the same thing if someone had done something like that to my wife."

"Er, Hermione and I weren't... like that..." I say. "We were just friends."

"Don't take it the wrong way," Dirk says. "That's not what I meant. So, how long will you be staying here? I'm sure you have no idea whether your friends will actually be able to get you off, but you can't stay here forever."

"No later than Halloween," I say. "If you can keep us hidden until then, we can manage from there."

"Halloween?" Dirk says. "Got something planned?"

"You could say that," I say. "It's a long story. But suffice it to say that our plans won't harm anyone else."

"I'll take your word on that," Dirk says. "I don't know that I like hiding murderers in my house, but I can't turn you away."

"There are always choices," I say. "If you don't want us here, help us get set up in the Muggle world and we'll hide out there instead."

Dirk shakes his head. "No, I won't turn you away."

"That's better," I say. "Thank you. We'll try to be as little trouble as possible for you." I pull out a pouch of galleons from my bag of holding. "Here."

Dirk takes it and looks inside. "I don't need your money, Mr. Potter."

"Just take it," I say. "Cassie and I are both from wealthy families. We can certainly spare some galleons for food, at least. You have three sons. You can't have too much money."

"Okay," Dirk says. "I suppose I can't argue."

* * *

"Grindelwald was groping me!" Cassie shrieks.

"I was not," Gerard protests. "Besides, I'm eleven. And gay."

It's a good thing that this room is silenced. I don't think anyone else in this house really needs to hear this discussion. I don't think _I_ need to hear this discussion, for that matter.

"_And_ he eats too much!" Cassie snaps.

"What can I say?" Gerard says innocently. "I'm a growing boy."

"I suppose there's one consolation to being dead," Tom comments. "I don't have to eat or sleep."

"I still feel kind of bad about imposing on Dirk like this," I say. "I'd like to try to make it up to him somehow."

"Why?" Tom says. "He owed you his life."

"Because _you_ were going to kill him," I say. "That's almost as bad as James Potter demanding a life debt from Snape because of Sirius almost getting him killed."

"A life's a life," Tom says. "I say it's fair. But if you really want, then leave him whatever you like. It's not like we'll need it when we leave this world."

The door opens, and Dirk comes up from downstairs, carrying a large cake with chocolate frosting. "Happy birthday, Harry."

"Is it my birthday?" I say. "I'd entirely forgotten. Everything's been so hectic lately, I've lost track."

"I figured you should at least have a cake," Dirk says.

"Thanks, Dirk," I say. "You're too good to me. How'd you know it was my birthday?"

Dirk pulls out today's _Daily Prophet_ and passes it over to me. "Not much of a birthday present, but better than nothing."

I glance over the page, and see that progress is being made on exonerating me, apparently. There's nothing to connect me to the death of Gilderoy Lockhart, and they're trying to undo the Memory Charm used on Hermione without damaging her mind. They still want to bring me in for questioning, however.

"Good news is good news, I suppose," I say.

"You might be able to just turn yourself in and get this all cleared up," Dirk says.

I shake my head. "I can't risk questioning under Veratiserum. Not when I'm actually guilty of killing Lockhart. I can't be sure they won't ask me about that."

Dirk nods. "Yeah, that complicates things. At least, with any luck, they'll be able to help your friend Hermione. Horrible having to remember something like that, even if it didn't really happen."

"I hope so," I say. "Poor Hermione."

* * *

September approaches, and things are quiet for a while. They're still hunting for me, wanting to bring me in for questioning, but seem to have figured that they aren't going to readily find me at the moment.

Then, toward the end of August, Dirk comes up the stairs with a newspaper in his hand, and isn't carrying the usual assortment of food for the day. His face is stern, and he pins me with a glare as he shoves the paper at me.

"You have some explaining to do," Dirk says.

"Huh?" I say in puzzlement, peering at the paper. The headline reads, _BOY-WHO-LIVED IMPOSTER!_

"Lexen Chelseer?" Dirk says.

I blink at the paper. They managed to break the Memory Charm on Hermione, and now she remembers what I told her. And now, Lexen Chelseer is implicated in the deaths of Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore, Tom Riddle, and Gilderoy Lockhart.

"What the fuck?" I utter.

"Tell me that this is somehow another trick," Dirk says.

I put down the paper and massage my temples for a moment, and then rub the Resurrection Stone. Tom's wraith appears before us.

"I can assure you that he did not kill me," Tom says.

Dirk's eyes widen. "A ghost?"

"Close enough," Tom says, shrugging. "Alastor Moody killed me."

"I'd like some clarity on the rest of it, however," Dirk says. "Are you, or are you not, Harry Potter?"

I sigh heavily. "I am Lexen Chelseer, Harry Potter's second cousin on his mother's side. Harry Potter is dead. But it wasn't I who killed him. Dumbledore practically begged me to take the place of Harry Potter. He set up everything for it."

"Why would Dumbledore do something like that?" Dirk wonders.

"There was a prophecy," I say. "There was one about Harry Potter, and one about me. Harry Potter was supposed to be able to vanquish the Dark Lord, and I was supposed to bear the hope of a thousand worlds. But mostly, Dumbledore... didn't really want to admit to the world that Harry Potter had died under his watch, due to careless neglect."

"You didn't know Albus very well, did you, Dirk," Gerard says.

"It seems a little convenient that the only one who could corroborate your story is now also dead," Dirk says, looking at me suspiciously.

"Aberforth," I say. "He also knows the truth."

"_Did_ you kill Dumbledore?" Dirk presses.

"I'm not in the habit of killing people for no reason other than that they know something inconvenient," I say.

"Lexen," Tom says. "What's the date?"

"August 30th," Dirk says.

"We still need another two months," Tom says. "It doesn't matter what happens after that."

"And that's another thing," Dirk says. "Your plans for Halloween are awfully suspicious, too. What sort of dark magic do you have planned?"

"You're a good person, Dirk," I say. "And I fear I've asked too much of you."

It's a fact I've long since figured out. Slytherins are slow to trust, but once they truly give their loyalty, they won't betray you without good reason. Gryffindors are quick to make friends, but will turn on their friends the minute anything they perceive as "bad" is shown. I've been betrayed by far more Gryffindors than Slytherins in my lifetimes.

"I want the truth, _Lexen Chelseer,_" Dirk says. "What are you really planning?"

"A dark ritual to create Soul Bonds between me, Cassie, and Gerard," I reply. "This will link them to me and allow them to travel through time with me. Once this is done, we intend to leave this world behind forever. No one will be hurt. No one here will ever see us again."

Dirk stares at me in silence for a long moment. "And did you kill Dumbledore?"

I sigh. "I won't lie to you, Dirk. I did kill Dumbledore."

"_Why?_" Dirk asks in shock.

"For the Greater Good," I say, looking at the floor.

"He should appreciate that," Gerard says.

"Hundreds of lives were saved because of this," Tom says. "Including, I might add, your own as well as those of your wife and sons."

"I sacrificed the one to save the many," I say. "I regret it, but I would do it again in a heartbeat in the same situation."

"How... how were we in danger?" Dirk asks.

"The Dark Lord wanted to burn Caer Danas to the ground with Fiendfyre," I say. "I made a bargain with him. Reckless, foolish, perhaps, but I had no better options. And he kept his word."

"You made a bargain with _You-Know-Who_?" Dirk says.

"Don't knock it," I say. "I made a bargain with him before for your life, and as you recall, he kept that as well."

Dirk sighs and shakes his head. "I don't know what to believe anymore."

"If I were to lie, I would have denied the entire thing," I point out. "I appreciate the help you've given us this past month, but I will not hold you to it if you are uncomfortable with me under your roof. We will find someplace else to hide out for the next two months."

Dirk turns away, staring off at nothing for several long moments. "Stay," he says finally. "If what you say is true... then not only do I owe you my own life twice over, but the lives of my family as well. But if I find out that you've lied to me..."

"If I've lied to you, then my life is forfeit," I say. "Ask Aberforth. Ask Dumbledore's painting in the Headmaster's office. I'll even submit to Veratiserum for you. But _only_ for you. I would give you memories to view in a Pensieve if I could be assured that they wouldn't fall into the wrong hands."

Dirk shakes his head. "No. That won't be necessary. I'll take your word for what it's worth."

"Dirk, when we leave this world, I want you to have my stuff," I say. "But no material possessions are adequate to compensate you for what you've done for us."


	30. Triumph of Shadows

**Chapter 30: Triumph of Shadows**

I wake abruptly, and open my eyes to see a wand pointed at my throat. I look up to see that it's Moody holding it, peering down at me, his glass eye swiveling about the room.

"Surrender at once and your friends will not be harmed," Moody says. "And don't even think about reaching for a wand."

"Gah!" I say. "How did you find me?"

"Locater ritual," Moody replies. "Would've done it sooner, but your former friends Sirius Black and Remus Lupin wouldn't allow me into your old house to find a hair sample."

I groan softly. "Don't tell me they believe this shit, too?"

"You've got quite a lot of people unhappy with you now, dark wizard," Moody says.

My mind races. How am I going to get out of this? I try Apparating away, but it's blocked, unsurprisingly. "Look, please don't hold anything against Dirk Cresswell for keeping me here. I hung a life debt over his head for it."

"You're the only one I'm after here today," Moody says. "Though if there were any evidence that your friends did anything more than get dragged along as accessories, you better believe I'd be after them, too."

Cassie and Gerard are stirring and reaching for their wands. Moody disarms them with a flick of his wand. I take advantage of the distraction to hurl lightning from my fingertips at him, but the electricity splashes off of Moody's shield harmlessly. Curses burn the air, and Cassie and Gerard's broken bodies hit the far wall. Moody tries to nail me with a Stunner, but I tumble out of the way.

I don't know how badly hurt they are, if they're even still alive. I'm not going to take the chance. I quickly force my Time Magic down to age myself away.

* * *

I wake to Moody's wand pointed at me. "Surrender now and your companions won't get hurt," Moody says. "And don't even think about grabbing your wand."

I hold up my hands in a gesture of surrender and come to my feet slowly. "I surrender," I say quietly.

Cassie and Gerard are starting to get up. Their wands are in their hands in the blink of an eye.

"Hold on," I say to them quickly. They lower their wands, but still look wary. "Listen, Moody. I will cooperate only if you let my friends go. Once I can be assured that they are safely away, I will go with you. Alright?"

"You know I'm not going to agree to that," Cassie says.

"Cassie, I appreciate your loyalty, but not right now," I say. "Just do it. Please. I'm not going to abandon you." I can't tell her outright in front of Moody that I can come up with a way out of this for myself if she and Gerard are safe.

"Fine," Moody says. "You two. Go. Now. And I don't want to hear about any trouble connected to either of you again."

Cassie gives me a long look, and then heads downstairs followed by Gerard. I breathe a soft sigh of relief once they're out of sight. We could have fought. We might have won, somehow, eventually. But I'm not going to take the chance of getting Stunned and having them hurt or dead because of it.

"You better not be planning something, _Chelseer_," Moody says.

"Why don't you just send me to Azkaban right now and save us both the trouble?" I say blandly.

"Oh, believe me, you'll get there," Moody says. "But there are procedures that must be followed through. Come on."

Moody takes my wand, and I follow along after him, down the stairs. Tonks is standing guard at the entrance to the house. I keep an eye out for any opportunity to make my escape. But between the two of them, I'm not going anywhere from here. Not without overcharging a Lightning Curse and risking destroying the Cresswell home in the process.

They sweep me away to the Ministry of Magic, and put me in some sort of holding cell. "You'll stay here and wait for your trial," Moody says. "And don't even think about trying to escape."

"It's a little ironic that you deride me for being a dark wizard, when you used a dark ritual to find me," I say.

"Using dark magic doesn't make someone a dark wizard," Moody says.

I test the limits of my cell. I'm held in behind heavy wards, as well as a physical barrier, and a small guard room. I don't think I'm getting out of this one. Moody is guarding me himself at the moment while Tonks went off to take care of other stuff.

"You see?" Moody says. "You're not getting out of it this time, dark wizard."

"So I made one too many mistakes," I say.

But what else could I have done? Found a way to give up sleep entirely? Put up better defenses? Moved around more, hidden better?

Not made enemies I couldn't deal with in the first place?

"And it's about time that you were finally brought to justice for all of your crimes," Moody says.

"Tell me, Moody," I say. "Why did you do this? Why did you become so fixated upon bringing me down, even when you had no evidence of any wrongdoing on my part?"

"I suspected something was off about you for quite some time," Moody says. "You played a very convincing act. But the pieces didn't always fit together. Everything didn't always add up. And you didn't always cover your tracks cleanly enough."

"I thought you were on my side, after Yaxley's death," I say. "I thought I'd convinced you, then."

"Yaxley was a Death Eater," Moody says. "I couldn't fault you for that, but things still didn't add up. The timeline was off, and then there was your conversations with your friends. I made nice for the time being to keep an eye out and try to collect more information, to piece things together. And the picture I wound up with was a damning one."

There's no Dementors around here, but there might as well be for all the despair pressing down on me at the moment.

* * *

It's almost a week before I'm finally brought in for trial. I haven't had any success in trying to get away, and they're definitely on their guard about bringing me into the courtroom. They give me three drops of Veratiserum, and put me to questioning with three Aurors at my back keeping wands trained on me.

"What is your name?" asks Moody. So they're letting him do the questioning, too? I'm so fucked.

"Lexen Chelseer," I reply. "Don't I get any legal representation?"

"I'm asking the questions here," Moody says.

"And I'm demanding to speak with a lawyer," I say. "Otherwise you might as well just not bother with this and throw me into Azkaban without a trial, like you did with Sirius Black."

"No one was willing to stand up for you, _Lexen Chelseer_," Moody says. "For all your crimes, you've alienated the entire wizarding world."

"Don't you people normally assign lawyers if needed?" I say.

"Enough," Moody says. "Where is Harry Potter?"

"Harry Potter is dead," I reply.

"And you murdered him, didn't you?" Moody presses.

"I did not," I say. "I've never even met him. He was dead at the age of five from falling down a staircase."

There are gasps from the courtroom. Moody scowls. That's clearly not the answer he was hoping for. "And what led to you pretending to be him?"

"Albus Dumbledore asked me to do it," I say. "And all just because I look a little like him. He didn't want to admit to the world that Harry Potter died on his watch. That he made a mistake. I didn't want to agree to it, myself. I didn't want to get dragged into this all again. I just wanted a chance to study in peace. I made some unreasonable demands of him before I would agree to it. I made him change the Hogwarts curriculum for my sake, or I wouldn't do it."

"Did you kill Albus Dumbledore?" Moody asks.

"Yes," I reply.

"Did you kill Gilderoy Lockhart?" Moody asks.

"Yes," I say.

"Was Tom Riddle really Lord Voldemort?" Moody asks.

"Yes," I reply, sighing.

More gasps. Moody gives a triumphant grin. That was more along the lines of what he wanted. "And did you serve Voldemort?"

"Yes," I say.

"Was Cassiopeia Black involved in this in any way?" Moody asks.

"No," I say. "And as I recall, she's not the one on trial here. Leave her out of this. She didn't want me getting involved with the Dark Lord, but I wound up dragging her along anyway."

"Who is Gerard Boltwood?" Moody asks.

"Gellert Grindelwald," I reply reflexively, and scowl at him. "He's not on trial here, either, damn it."

Expect no justice from the Ministry of Magic. They don't even follow their own procedures. These trials are a sham to appease the masses. They're no true attempt at getting at the truth and imposing fair punishment. Even if I probably do deserve it.

"Did he assist you in killing Lockhart?" Moody asks.

"He brought down the wards," I say. "_I_ killed Lockhart. Cassie even begged me to stop when I used the Cruciatus Curse on him. Don't hold anything against her. She's been doing nothing but trying to keep me in check."

"So you admit to that, too," Moody says.

"How about I admit to using the Imperius Curse, too, for the trifecta?" I say. "I used it on Rabastan Lestrange."

There's no escape from here. But Azkaban? I'm pretty sure I can escape from Azkaban. Get this nonsense over with already.

"I think we've heard enough," the judge says. "Lexen Chelseer, for your crimes, you are hereby sentenced to lifelong imprisonment in Azkaban."

* * *

Overwhelming despair. A dark pit of depression so deep I can no longer remember the light. My cold, dank cell where I hear prisoners screaming and sobbing in the distance, and can always feel the Dementors pressing in upon me from all around.

Why did I ever entertain such a foolish thought that I could escape from this place? It's hopeless. I'm never going to get out of here.

"I'm blaming you for this, you know," Gerard says from the cell across from me.

"I deserve that," I say.

I take a deep breath. I've got to focus. I focus upon my Occlumency barriers in some hope of keeping the Dementors out. I bring up every happy thought that I can muster. I've never tried to cast a Patronus wandlessly, and I really don't think that I can manage it, given the difficulty I had in getting it to work in the first place. But I have to try.

The rainbow after the storm. All things will pass, in time. All strife will end. All troubles will fade. "_Expecto Patronum_," I cast. I think I see a faint, shimmering vapor emerge from my fingertips, but that's all. No silvery duck. No real barrier against the Dementors.

"You really think you're going to manage that?" Gerard says, barking bitter laughter. "You're a dark wizard. Only a Lord of the Light could hope to cast a wandless Patronus!"

"I had to try," I say, sighing. "I refuse to believe that we're going to be trapped here forever. This, too, shall pass."

"You've got more optimism here than I do," Gerard says. "Just you wait. The Dementors will suck that out of you, too."

And then, just when things are looking blackest, there's a light of hope outside my cell. The presence of the Dementors fades away, pushed back by radiant hope. A gleaming silver raven flies in and lights up the darkness.

"Cassie!" I exclaim.

"I'm here," Cassie says. "You didn't think I'd just leave you in here, did you? Here, I even brought your wand."

She passes it in through the bars, and I take it eagerly. She passes another wand over to Gerard.

The taste of pancakes. The rainbow after the storm. Falling in love with Tom. Falling in love with Cassie. Bonding with Tom. Tom's purification ritual. Cassie coming to save me. Seven happy memories. Seven lights in the darkness. "_EXPECTO PATRONUM!_"

Brilliant light erupts from the tip of my wand, and the wings of my duck Patronus flutter out, holding the Dementors at bay.

"Cassie..." Gerard says. "Have I mentioned I love you yet?"

"I thought you were gay, Grindelwald," Cassie says.

"Like a sister?" Gerard says, smirking.

I focus on the thought of freedom for all beings. "_Alohomora!_" My door opens, and I go across to Gerard's door as well. "_Alohomora!_"

"Let's get the hell out of here," Gerard says, grinning broadly.

The three of us make our way to the exit, the raven and duck flanking us and giving us a buffer against the Dementors. Their aura of despair can't break through our barriers.

"I brought your bag," Cassie says, handing it over to me.

"Thanks, Cassie," I say. "I owe you... well, everything. I thought I could escape on my own. But I underestimated the Dementors."

Cassie grins at me and says, "You can pay me back by showing me the multiverse. Come on, we need to get away from this island to get past the Anti-Apparation wards."

There's probably alarms going off somewhere heralding our escape, but for the moment, we've got a clear rocky coast ahead of us. We pile into the small boat and head for shore, leaving the raging, hungry Dementors behind us.

"Not to dismiss the rescue or anything, but where are we going from here?" Gerard asks.

"I hadn't really thought that far ahead," Cassie says. "I didn't think you'd want to be stuck in there for longer than necessary."

"But if they catch us now, they'll give us the Dementor's Kiss," I say.

"We need someplace to hide that they'll never be able to get at us," Gerard says. "_And_ we'll need to be able to get to a node by Halloween."

"Which ones are available?" I ask.

"Hogwarts is built on one of the strongest ones in the area," Gerard says. "There's also Stonehenge and a few other places, of course, but they aren't likely to be unguarded on Halloween either."

"At least there's plenty of places to hide in Hogwarts," I say. My eyes widen as something suddenly dawns on me, and a grin spreads across my face. "The Chamber of Secrets."

"And you're a Parselmouth now!" Cassie says. "Brilliant!"

"Did I miss something?" Gerard asks.

"I gained the ability to speak Parseltongue when I bonded with Tom," I say. "The Chamber of Secrets is hidden below Hogwarts and can only be opened with Parseltongue."

"Great," Gerard says. "That just leaves us having to find a way to sneak into Hogwarts. Easy."

"Apparate to Hogsmeade once we're out of range of the wards," I say. "Meet up at the Shrieking Shack. I know some secret passages that'll get us inside. And I've got a way for us to avoid detection."

It's not just that the area around Azkaban is dark and oppressive, but it's actually night at the moment. We Apparate to Hogsmeade, trying to stay out of sight, and duck inside the Shrieking Shack.

"Nobody will bother us in here for the moment," I say. "There's a secret passage in here, but it doesn't go inside the school itself. It comes out at the Whomping Willow." I pull out the Marauder's Map and open it up. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

"Nice map," Gerard says. "Are there any passages that'll get us all the way inside?"

"The Honeydukes one is the best option, I think," I say, pointing and following it with a finger. "And the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is here."

"In the girls' loo?" Gerard says, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," I say. "I have no idea why, myself. Even Slytherin's painting didn't know why. It won't be long before they realize we've escaped from Azkaban. Let's move. We'll be safe once we're inside."

"We can worry about not starving later," Cassie says, smirking. "I did pack as much food as I could get my hands on on short notice, but I don't know if it'll last until Halloween."

We leave the Shrieking Shack and sneak into Honeydukes. Along the way, I pinch a pile of sweets, and leave galleons laying on the counter.

"You are the worst thief ever," Gerard whispers.

We make it to the secret passage without alerting anyone that we're sneaking around the sweet shop, and make our way up toward Hogwarts. I peer at the Marauder's Map along the way to make sure we won't run into anyone on our way in. To my surprise, I spot Moody's name patrolling the corridors.

"Moody's at Hogwarts," I murmur.

"What the hell is he doing there?" Gerard asks.

"Did he get another year as High Inquisitor?" Cassie asks.

"No idea," I say. "This will be... inconvenient. Cassie, stun me, please. I want to make sure we don't have to escape from Azkaban again."

Cassie points her wand at me and hits me with a red flash, and I'm out.

* * *

"_Rennervate_," Cassie says, bringing me back to consciousness. "We still need to be careful, though."

"Of course," I say. "Just, can't be too paranoid. I have no intention of getting you two killed."

"Quit worrying about us," Gerard says. "All we need to do is get to the Chamber of Secrets. But if you die, what's left for us?"

"Neither of us would have any sort of life if it weren't for you," Cassie says.

I rub the Resurrection Stone and summon up Tom's wraith. "What's going on?" Tom asks. "Where are you?"

"Secret passage leading into Hogwarts," I reply.

"Is it Halloween already?" Tom asks.

"No," I say. "But we're going to try to hide out in the Chamber of Secrets until then."

"Ah, good idea," Tom says. "Do you need me to open the entrance? No, you're a Parselmouth now, too."

"Moody's patrolling inside Hogwarts," I say.

"What this brat isn't mentioning is that I just rescued him and Grindelwald from Azkaban," Cassie says.

"You were sent to Azkaban?" Tom asks in alarm.

"Everything's gone wrong," I say. "All my secrets are laid out on the table. Everyone but you guys have turned against me."

"It's a veritable mess," Cassie says.

"Can we just kill Moody?" Gerard says. "We can ambush him and kill him. He'll never expect to see us here."

"Don't count on it," I say. "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

"I'll distract him if need be," Tom says.

I give a nod. "Thanks, Tom. We just need to make it to the Chamber. Invisibility or disillusionment won't help against Moody, so all we've got against him are our wits and skills. He's too strong to take on in a fair fight, with him with the Elder Wand."

"So we do an unfair fight," Gerard says. "Simple enough."

We come out of the passageway on the third floor. Now we just need to make it down two floors to the restroom where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is hidden. I lead the way, eyes fixed on the map to avoid running into Moody or anyone else that might be wandering about tonight.

Then, as we approach the girls' restroom, I spot Moody's dot heading in that direction as well. We're going to be intercepted in the corridor outside the restroom, at this rate. I duck inside a classroom and wait for him to pass. But he doesn't pass. He comes right up to the classroom door and stands outside.

"I know you're in there," Moody says through the door. "I heard you. Come on out now, and I might avoid giving you detention."

He thinks we're students out past curfew. That's still not helpful.

Then an idea strikes me, and I mutter, "_Multicorfors_," pointing my wand at Gerard's hair, turning him into a redhead. I quickly transfigure his clothing into a Hogwarts uniform, and give him a Gryffindor tie for good measure.

Tom's wraith takes the cue and slips into a wall. I hide in the cupboard at the far end of the room, and Cassie tucks away with me as well. It's a tight squeeze, and under other circumstances might even be pleasant.

"So, a first year out for a walk at night, huh?" Moody says. "Ten points from Gryffindor. Who are you, son?"

"Gordon Weasley," Gerard replies.

Cassie and I are practically holding our breaths, hoping that Moody doesn't realize we're here. _Crash!_ My foot slipped, and I knocked over something. Fuck.

Moody stomps over to the closet and throws open the door. "And what have we here? Two sixth years snogging in a cupboard?"

I try to hide my face. He'll recognize my scars immediately. But he grabs me by the collar and hauls me out of the closet, looking straight at me.

"You!" Moody says, hurling me back against the wall and in a single motion, dodging a curse from behind that Gerard cast at him. "I should have known Azkaban wouldn't hold you. And known better than to let your friend off. You sprung him, didn't you, girl."

"Go!" I yell to Cassie and Gerard. "I'll follow!"

Cassie and Gerard make a break for the door, avoiding the curses Moody is throwing about. They make it out into the hallway.

"You're not getting away this time," Moody says, hurling curses at me with the Elder Wand.

I think of winter in my homeland. "_Nevischio!_" I shout in cold fury.

Daggers of ice rain down upon Moody, and while they can't penetrate his shields, the floor at his feet becomes very slippery. Moody barely keeps his footing. I take the opportunity to run for the door, darting out into the corridor and down the hallway toward the girls' restroom.

The way into the Chamber of Secrets is already open. Tom must have gotten it open for them. I dive inside and down the pipe. I hear Moody's footsteps racing behind me. I come out the far end to see Cassie and Gerard scrambling into the Chamber of Secrets past the big doors.

"Cover your eyes!" I yell to the two of them, running inside. I call out in Parseltongue, "Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts four!" I've heard the words before, but I didn't understand them, then. But now I remember what they were clearly.

The mouth of Salazar Slytherin's statue opens up, and the giant snake slithers out. I'm careful not to look directly at the creature too much. I haven't come this far just to accidentally force a full reset. Moody is right on my tail, and I have to move quick to dodge another curse from him.

"Kill him!" I command the basilisk.

Moody looks up at the basilisk in alarm, and he quickly averts his eyes as he realizes what he's looking at. He has no rooster here to save him, however. Moody stops attacking me and focuses upon the more immediate threat. As the serpent bears down upon him, he transfigures a rock on the floor into a rooster.

"_Silencio!_" I quickly cast before the rooster can crow.

The three of us take potshots at Moody with curses, trying to keep him distracted and wear him down. He can hardly keep up, and his shields are weakening. He turns to retreat, but the basilisk catches him in its teeth, sinking venomous fangs into his body.

I sink to the floor, panting softly. "Tom," I say. "Can you get the entrance closed?" Tom nods and drifts off.

"Well, that's one way to beat someone wielding the Elder Wand," Gerard says, impressed. "I certainly didn't see that coming."

"Good basilisk," I say, going over to stroke its scales appreciatively. "Very good indeed." I pick up the Elder Wand from where Moody dropped it.

Tom floats back in. "The entryway is secure. No one will be getting in here now."

"May I eat him, Master?" the basilisk hisses. "It has been so long since I have had a meal. So hungry."

"Let me search his possessions first, then you may eat him," I reply.

I strip Moody of any potential valuables without even really looking at them yet. The Elder Wand is the main thing I care even slightly about, but there might just be something else interesting here.

"Alright," I hiss to the basilisk. "Feast away, and then return to your hibernation. You have done well."

"My thanks, Master," the basilisk replies. It devours Moody's body, and then slithers back into the statue.

"That... was a little creepy," Cassie says.

"But at least we're safe," I say. "We're finally safe." I go over to embrace Cassie and move to give her a kiss.

Cassie holds up a hand and stops me, and waves her wand a bit, hitting us both with a _Scourgify_. "Better." Then she passionately kisses me.

We break off after a bit, and head into the library to look around and set up a living space.

"If we have to be stuck somewhere for over a month, at least it's someplace with a library like this," Gerard says. "Too bad that whole bookcase there is probably beyond help." He looks critically over the badly damaged books on the far wall.

Cassie takes my bag of holding and looks through the supplies we have. "With some charms, we can extend our food stores some."

"Failing all else, we can probably sneak out to the kitchens if need be," I say. "Nobody should have any idea that we're even down here."

"They'll realize Moody is missing," Tom says. "But, no evidence."

"So, Lexen," Gerard says. "You now have all three of the Deathly Hallows. You're the Master of Death. Feel any different?"

"Not really," I say, shrugging. "What does that even mean, anyway?"

"I have no idea," Gerard says. "You're the first one to have gotten them all."

"And I honestly don't care all that much," I say, chuckling.

* * *

Halloween finally arrives. And just as well, as our food stores are starting to run low. But all things considered, I couldn't be happier. Tom has been spending the last several weeks drilling us on how to handle the Soul Bonding ritual.

The hour of midnight strikes, and we begin the ritual. The runes we've carved along the floor glow brightly as we let our blood fill them. Demonic words echo through the Chamber of Secrets. Motes of energy fill the air, in blue, purple, and red. Blue seems to be the color of my own magical energy, I think. I never realized that before.

Gerard carefully handles the bonding between Cassie and me. Cassie shrieks loudly throughout the entire painful process. It hurts to see her in pain, but it has to be done. There's no help for it. It seems to be less painful for me, but perhaps I'm just more used to it. Or that I've simply killed more people than her.

When it's over, Cassie lies panting on the floor, and says, "Is it done? Did it work?"

"I think so," I say.

"It damned well better," Gerard says. "Because we're not done yet. It's my turn, now. You know, if for some reason this doesn't work, you'd better come and pull me out of Nurmengard anyway."

I chuckle softly. "Will do."

We set things up for the next ritual. There's no way that we'll want to hang around here until the Winter Solstice to get this done, although the air is still full of magical energy. I hope nothing goes wrong with attempting this ritual twice in one night.

Cassie stands aside, and Gerard and I get started, letting out our blood and chanting demonic words. I scream again in pain as the next bond is formed, our souls connected to one another, stronger than life, stronger than time. Gerard doesn't seem affected quite as strongly. He just winces, grits his teeth against it, and bears the pain. Tough bastard.

By the time it's done, I'm laying on the floor, exhausted, panting heavily. I think I can _feel_ where the bonds have been placed, like bits grafted into my very soul, humming slightly with energy. It still hurts a little, a dull ache well beyond the physical senses.

"We should rest now," Gerard says. "That took a lot out of us."

"Yeah," I say quietly. "Yeah. I don't... I don't need to ask if it worked. I can feel it. I can feel you all, if I focus on it. All three of you." I can even tell that Cassie and Gerard are alive, and Tom is dead.

But not for long. The multiverse awaits, and I will no longer be alone. I have friends now, and together, we will see what's out there.

* * *

**A/N: That's the end of "Unwanted Destiny". Lexen's adventures continue in "Stormseeker: Secret of the Shapers".**


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